The Demigods of Panem
by TheMysteriousHi
Summary: The Greek gods are still alive and well during the times of the Hunger Games. This is a story about how their children's lives would be. Dahlia Okelley is one of those children, and her life is about to get very, very interesting.
1. Introduction

_**Disclaimer: I don't own The Hunger Games, Percy Jackson and the Olympians or Heroes of Olympus. They belong to their respective owners: Suzanne Collins and Rick Riordan.**_

**_A/N: This is my first fic. It's a pretty huge project to undertake, so bear with me. If I screw up, _please _tell me. I'll take all constructive criticism and even flames…. And, by the way, this chapter is mainly just setting everything up. The real story probably won't begin till the second or third chapter._**

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Chapter One: Introduction

Dahlia stands at the back of the crowd of campers, clutching her bow. She hates archery, but it's necessary to get any kind of weapons training she can, especially these days. There's always the chance the Capitol will find out about Camp Half-Blood (or Camp Jupiter) and then they'll all be screwed. But they'll put up a fight before they crash and burn.

Demigods have a lot of trouble these days, more than they did even in the times of America. The technology is so much better, the gods have gone silent (and been that way pretty much since the beginning of the Hunger Games), and getting past the Peacekeepers and/or the district fences is _so_ hard. Most half-bloods don't even make it to camp anymore. At the moment, there's a total of thirty-four kids at camp. Dahlia's heard rumors that in the old days there were sometimes a hundred or more half-bloods at camp. She can barely wrap her head around a number that huge. She wishes she lived then. Everything was so much _easier. _At least, she assumes it must've been. They didn't have to hide as much. Quests couldn't have been quite as dangerous back when they only really had to worry about getting caught by monsters. These days, quest-goers have to worry about getting caught by monsters _and _mortals. Peacekeepers who question why there are three unnamed kids sneaking around in the wilderness, or into districts. Citizens who, scared out of their wits at who these strangers might be, report them to the Peacekeepers and land three unlucky demigods (or the ones who can't manage to get away in time, anyway) in a holding cell in the Capitol, being interrogated until they end up dying.

Needless to say, quests are few and far between these days. And Chiron is endlessly worried that one day the mortals might actually find one of the camps. With the way everything's going, that gets more and more likely every day. Everyone at camp is constantly on guard, but they all know they don't stand a chance. The Capitol will think they're rebels, and they'll all die. In truth, they're not. They're all just very, very happy they've escaped the Hunger Games and keep trying to keep their old lives out of their minds. Not that the idea of rebellion isn't in their minds. They all just know they can't act on it. It'd just end with demigods going extinct.

Chiron is even more strict about the no-technology thing these days. There is none at all. Because monsters and mortals can pick up on signals, and if the mortals read these signals, they'll get suspicious. That can't happen. Even Iris-messages might be risky.

Of course, just the fact that there are thirty-four kids missing from various districts, without bodies or anything to say for it, might make people suspicious, but the _government_ doesn't know about it. All thirty-four demigods at camp have been erased from the databases. According to the government of Panem, Dahlia Okelley and her siblings in the Demeter cabin, along with all the other demigods, don't exist. And they're all perfectly ok with that.

Children of Athena are rare and treasured, like precious gems, or Dahlia's dad's only keepsake from her mother: a necklace woven out of grass and leaves. At the moment, there is one. Her name is Diamond, and she's from District One. She's fourteen, like Dahlia, and has the trademark blond hair and gray eyes of Athena's child. For some reason, Chiron doesn't like being around her. He hides it, but Dahlia knows. He's told her that it's "too painful." Dahlia has never understood what that means, but she figures it must have something to do with the hall of fame in his office. He usually stares at an old faded picture from who-knows-how-long-ago as he speaks of it. The picture is hard to make out, but at close inspection, it reveals two teenagers, maybe sixteen or seventeen, one a boy with jet black hair and sea-green eyes, the other a daughter of Athena. They're both smiling widely, their arms hooked together, like they're with their very best friend.

The girl in the picture _does _bear a startling resemblance to Diamond (or maybe it's the other way around), more than just the blond hair and the stormy gray eyes. The way they hold themselves, the pride and certainty in their faces, even the features on those faces...they could be the same person. Except, of course, Diamond is probably several hundred years younger than the girl in the picture, _and _their names are different. Dahlia's pretty sure Chiron called the girl in the picture "Annabeth," and the boy was "Percy." Strange names, but Dahlia sort of likes them. If you ask her, they're not as strange as some of the names people in the Capitol and Career districts come up with (like Diamond, for example. She'll never tell her that, of course.).

Dahlia likes listening to Chiron talk about the past. It helps take her mind, and probably his too, off all the problems in the _present_. He tells her all sorts of stories, some from the times of Ancient Greece, some from just before Dahlia got to camp and some from somewhere between the two. He seems to especially like the 20th and 21st Centuries. That's another way Dahlia found out about Percy and Annabeth and a bunch of other people. She's heard stories about them so many times, she feels like she actually knows them, like she grew up in 21st Century America and went to camp with them. Then the story ends and she snaps back to the present, and she feels so disappointed because she's stuck in the dreary future instead of the past with them. Sure, their lives were fraught with peril, but she figures anything is better than _this_.

At least they had action. Dahlia's life at camp is full of waiting, and waiting and waiting and waiting. No one even knows if this infiltration by the Capitol will _ever_ happen. They're all just _waiting. _Sure, it's better to be safe than sorry, but Dahlia wishes they had a little more action. Maybe not as much as Percy and co. had, but something. Of course, the kind of action they'd get would end in death, so...maybe she's wishing for the wrong thing.

There hasn't been a quest in seven years, way before Dahlia even got to camp. Half-bloods these days are just going through the motions. No one's really afraid anymore. They figure, just like Dahlia, that if the infiltration hasn't happened yet, it never will. Still, they train and train and train, which is really the only thing you can do here. They all know that _if_ (and that's a big if) an attack from the Capitol happens, they won't stand a chance. They have nuclear missiles and other high-tech weaponry. Camp Half-Blood has bows and arrows and other such old-fashioned weapons. They work great for monster-fighting, but they're nothing compared to the mortals' weapons.

It's Dahlia's turn to shoot. Chiron has to call her name five times before she finally snaps out of her reverie. When she does, she finds her fellow campers staring at her, and she blushes.

"Sorry," she mumbles, and walks up to her place.

Dahlia Okelley carefully loads her bow and aims. Breathe in, breathe out, release. The arrow speeds from the bow and implants itself about three inches to the right of the bullseye. Dahlia allows herself a smile as her cabinmates clap politely. She did pretty well for a daughter of Demeter, especially one who got to camp only three years ago.

As she steps back for the next person's turn, she fiddles with the bow's string. She's been wishing for action for three years, and pretty soon she'll get her wish. And she won't like it.

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**_A/N: Ok, so that last paragraph was pretty cheesy, but I couldn't think of a better way to end it. Make sure to leave a review to tell me what you thought. Bye till the next chapter!_**


	2. Chapter 2

_**Disclaimer: I don't own The Hunger Games, Percy Jackson and the Olympians or Heroes of Olympus. They belong to their respective owners: Suzanne Collins and Rick Riordan.**_

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Chapter Two: Disturbance

Days pass. The Hunger Games draw closer (not that Dahlia or anyone else will be able to watch them), and Chiron seems to get more and more paranoid. Dreams come to Dahlia for the first time in months. Dreams about the Games. She hasn't considered them in three years, back when she used to worry about turning twelve and being eligible for the reaping. She doesn't understand why she's worried now. But her siblings seem to have similar problems. Radley, Dahlia's nine-year-old half-brother who got there fairly recently, often wakes up screaming, thus waking up everyone else in the cabin. He's forced to tell everyone his dream, and it's usually the same one, about the Hunger Games.

Dahlia normally keeps silent about her own dreams, but she's told Radley. They've talked about telling Chiron, but with the way he's been acting recently, they're not sure giving him more to worry about would be a good idea. He might end up putting them under twenty-four/seven surveillance, or something like that, and that's the last thing they want.

So they go on with their lives. The days blur into one another. Dahlia's dreams get worse, more vivid, and they occur more and more often. Finally, she can't stand it. She _has_ to talk to Chiron. She tries to catch him for two days, but he's either busy or she just can't find him.

Since the gods or the Fates or _someone_ seems to be against her telling Chiron about her dreams, she goes to the next best person: Diamond. As usual, Diamond is in her cabin, frowning at old maps of camp. She doesn't seem to notice Dahlia's entrance.

Dahlia raps her knuckles against the door frame. "Diamond?"

Diamond jumps and looks up. A faint smile spreads across her face. "Oh. Hey, Dahlia."

Dahlia shifts uncomfortably and manages a smile back. "Can I talk to you?"

The daughter of Athena frowns, rolling up her map and slipping the rubber band over it. She comes around the table and studies Dahlia like she's trying to read her mind. That's normal, of course, but it still makes Dahlia uncomfortable, like she's being inspected under a microscope.

Slowly, Diamond says, "Sure. What is it?"

"I've been having dreams. I tried to find Chiron, but he was never free. So I thought you might be able to help."

"What kind of dreams?"

Dahlia takes a deep breath. "About...the Hunger Games."

Diamond tenses up for a second. The Hunger Games are a touchy subject for her. She hates them, and she hates her district for being so freaking enthusiastic about their sons and daughters going and _killing_ other kids. It's barbaric, according to her. Even her _dad_ liked the Hunger Games, telling Diamond that when she came of age, she'd be sure to win, what with her smarts and all. Diamond's told Dahlia that he used to tell her that Athena would be proud of her, if she won. Like it was living up to her mother's expectations. Diamond likes to use her intelligence for good, not something like the Hunger Games. And she says that she thinks her mother is more proud of her for that than she'd ever be if Diamond won the Hunger Games.

"What about them?" she says tightly.

Dahlia bites her lip. "That I was in them... But that's not possible, right?"

Diamond stares at Dahlia for a while, then shakes her head. "Right. Chiron erased everyone for government databases when we got here. We don't exist, according to the Capitol. You know that."

Dahlia lets out a breath of relief. "Yeah, I know. I just needed reassurance."

Diamond smiles a little. "Besides, how would you get into the Hunger Games anyway? Reapings aren't held here. You're probably just dreaming for real."

Dahlia feels immensely relieved. "Yeah, probably. I should've thought of that."

Diamond smirks. "That's what I'm here for, isn't it?"

Dahlia grins. "Yeah. I don't know what I'd do without a daughter of Athena around to tell me when I'm being stupid. Thanks."

"Anytime."

Dahlia laughs. Diamond smiles. Then she says, "Still, you should probably tell Chiron. He might know something I don't..." Worry flashes across her face, but she quickly masks it.

"I told you. I tried telling him."

"Well, try again. Or talk to Catia."

Catia is their Oracle. She's from the Capitol and has the weird accent and tendencies that go along with that. Most of the half-bloods (except for the Capitol-born ones, of which there are a few) steer clear of her unless they absolutely have to be near her. Dahlia is from District Eleven (surprise, surprise) and therefore doesn't really like hanging around with Catia. She scowls.

Diamond's smile widens a little. "Yeah, she's hard to get along with, but it might help. Just try, ok?"

Dahlia sighs. "Fine." Then she just stands there.

Diamond frowns at her, sighing. "Well? Go on."

"Ok..." Dahlia turns and leaves.

She goes looking for Catia and her little band of followers. There are usually about three or four half-bloods hanging out with her, all of them Capitol-born and therefore a little uncomfortable with living side-by-side with district kids. When they got here, they were shocked to discover that the districts aren't as amazing as they're made out to be in the Capitol. Well, except for one kid, the one with the least alterations, who seemed to notice how malnourished the district kids look on TV. You can imagine his comment on that made everyone else feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

Finally, Dahlia finds Catia, hanging out with three other Capitol kids at the canoe lake. She sighs, steels herself and walks over to them. "Hey, Catia?"

Catia jumps and whirls around, along with the rest of her friends. She stares at Dahlia uncomprehendingly, her unnatural gold eyes wide.

Catia is the typical Capitol citizen. She might be beautiful if it wasn't for all the tatooes and alterations on her. Her hair is neon orange, her skin bright purple, and her contacts are _gold_. Dahlia doesn't think she even needs them. She figures they're just there in response to some weird fashion trend the Capitol had at some point. And that's not all. Catia also has wings. Small, white, pretty wings sticking out of her shoulder blades. All her clothes have holes to allow the wings to fit through. And the clothes themselves are strange. They're all puffy and sparkly and strange. Like right now, she's dressed in a puffy purple dress that makes her look like a marshmallow. It's speckled with silver stars and gold comets racing across the fabric. Maybe it's supposed to be a weird interpretation of an astronaut's suit. Catia's friends don't look much better. It takes all of Dahlia's willpower to keep from laughing.

Instead, she forces a smile. "Can I talk to you, please?"

Catia recovers and gives Dahlia a brilliant white smile. "Sure, honey." She waves at her friends. They get the message and leave quickly. She then turns her strange golden eyes on Dahlia uncertainly. "Now, what is it...honey?"

Obviously, the Oracle has no clue who she's talking to. Dahlia can tell that from the way she holds herself, the expression on her purple face, the slight hesitation when she called Dahlia "honey". So why not start with introductions, even though Dahlia has met Catia before? It's understandable the Oracle wouldn't remember that, anyway.

"My name's Dahlia Okelley," she says flatly.

There's a spark of recognition now. "Oh!" Catia yelps. "I remember you! Um... Demeter's child, yes?" The accent twists all Catia's words, but Dahlia's gotten used to hearing the Capitol accent by now. After all, quite a few people around camp speak in it.

She nods and Catia smiles, pleased that she got it right.

"Wonderful," Catia says. "Now, what do you want?"

And this is where the pleasantries end. Dahlia shifts uncomfortably. "I...need to talk to you about something."

"What?"

"Dreams."

Catia's expression darkens. Dahlia figures she knows a lot about dreams.

Slowly, Catia asks, "About what?"

"The Hunger Games."

Catia frowns. "What about them?"

Dahlia sighs. She starts telling the Oracle her dreams, reluctantly. She's really hoping for some kind of reassurance, but no such luck. Because once she's done, Catia's eyes turn green. And _Oh no _is the only thing Dahlia manages to think before Catia starts spilling out her prophecy:

_"Three shall go, but only two shall leave._

_The third, despair, for terrible fate; _

_she shall become one of late._

_Her friends try to believe_

_But slowly lose faith._

_They know the truth by the last eighth."_

Then Catia collapses and Dahlia is forced to catch her. Catia comes out of it quickly and pulls away, rubbing her eyes, which are golden again, sleepily. "What-what happened?" she mumbles.

Dahlia is a lot paler now than she was two minutes ago. "You...you said a prophecy."

Catia's eyes widen. "I did? Oh gods... What did I say?"

Dahlia shakes her head. "I... I'll tell you. But we should see Chiron."

Catia nods quickly. "Of course. Come on." She grabs Dahlia's arm and drags her away.

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_**A/N: And another fabulous ending. Any thoughts or advice? Feel free to review and tell me. Bye till next time.**_


	3. Chapter 3

_**Disclaimer: I don't own The Hunger Games, Percy Jackson and the Olympians or Heroes of Olympus. They belong to their respective owners: Suzanne Collins and Rick Riordan.**_

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Chapter Three: More Disturbances

They find him at archery. They stand at the edge and watch, waiting for Chiron to notice them. It's about ten minutes before he finally does. He sees how pale Dahlia looks, how scared Catia looks, and seems to understand the urgency of the situation. He looks at his class.

"Early dismissal," he announces, and is answered with a bunch of relieved sighs and smiling. His expression hardens. "But you will be making it up tomorrow."

Now there are groans. Chiron manages a small smile, then waves them away. They leave willingly, off to do who-knows-what. Chiron turns to Dahlia and the orange-haired, gold-eyed, purple-skinned Oracle of Delphi.

Dahlia looks at Chiron with distressed brown eyes, and brushes a lock of golden-blonde hair out of them. Catia looks just as antsy, but in a strange, alien way.

Chiron slings his bow over his human back and comes over. "What is it?"

Dahlia and Catia both take a deep breath at the exact same moment, then look at each other, obviously wondering the same thing. Who should speak first? Catia makes a little "go ahead" motion with her hand, and Dahlia sighs. She turns to face Chiron.

"I was talking to Catia about these dreams I've been having, and she gave a prophecy. I didn't even ask her a question. I just finished my story and suddenly she started talking in her prophecy voice."

Chiron pales. "What did she say?"

Catia leans in closer, interested now. She wants to know this, too, after all.

Dahlia is intensely nervous. To distract herself, she plays around with the grass around her feet, making it grow, then go back to normal, then grow again. Keeping her eyes on that little game, and feeling a little more tired with each trick, she repeats the prophecy. The words still ring in her ears, so that's easy.

If possible, Chiron gets even paler. After a long silence, he says, "Well, I suppose that means a quest is in order. And you, Dahlia, must be part of it."

"What?" the daughter of Demeter blurts out. "Why?" Of course, she wants to go out. Just not on this quest. Apparently, something really bad is going to happen to the third member. She doesn't want to risk it.

Then again, prophecies usually mean something besides the obivous meaning, but, come on, "The third, despair, for terrible fate". You can't get anymore obvious than that.

She's learned from Chiron's stories that quests are always dangerous, though, and this might be the only one for a very, very long time. She can't help but feel a little excited, even through her nerves.

"The prophecy was given to you, my dear," Chiron says, biting his lip. "So you must be the leader. You are allowed to bring two companions with you. Who do you choose?"

Well, that was sudden. Dahlia stares at Chiron, mouth open. "I... I don't know. Can I think about it?"

Chiron smiles with understanding. Gently, he replies, "Of course, Dahlia. Take your time."

"Thanks, Chiron," Dahlia whispers. She leaves as quickly as she can, leaving Catia and Chiron alone, and flees to her cabin.

She sits down on her bunk and stares at the floor. She's going to lead a quest. Dahlia Okelley, daughter of the goddess Demeter and the mortal Bracken Okelley, is going to lead a quest. And she doesn't even know what the quest is _for_, or where she's supposed to be going. Chiron will probably tell her eventually. He'll probably Iris-message some god and find out something that makes a quest necessary at the moment. Maybe it's just a surveillance type thing.

Dahlia doesn't really care. She just knows that she gets to get out of here. And that something terrible might happen to her or one of her quest companions. How can she ask _anyone_ to come with her, knowing that something is going to happen to one of them. There's always a _chance_ something bad will happen on a quest, but in this case, the Oracle has decreed that something bad is _going _to happen. There's no maybe.

So how can she ask anyone to come along? She can't. But she doesn't have any choice. So she figures she better get the best.

Diamond is the obvious choice. Partially because she's a good friend, and partially because she's the daughter of Athena. Having a good strategist along will probably be a good idea. As for the other companion, Dahlia has no idea. She considers bringing one of her siblings along, but decides she can't risk that. If one of them ends up getting hurt, she'll never be able to forgive herself. Of course, the same goes for if Diamond gets hurt, but still. Honestly, she'd rather bring two people she doesn't know along, so she wouldn't feel as much guilt for forcing them into something that ultimately ends in something terrible happening to them. Of course, she'll still feel sort of guilty...just not as much.

Only problem is, in a camp of only thirty-four people, it's sort of impossible to not know everyone. Sure, Dahlia's not friends with all of them, but she knows all of their names and faces, at the very least.

She sighs and moves on. She's assuming they'll have to break in somewhere. All the quests since the beginning of the Hunger Games have involved breaking in somewhere, whether it be a district or some kind of government building. Or all of the quests Chiron has told her about, anyway.

So she'll need someone who is good at breaking into places. A Hermes kid, of course. She goes through the list of Hermes kids, trying to find the least annoying one. Obviously not Philo, the Capitol-born one. He talks _all the time_. Finally, she settles on Mica. He's been there second-longest (Philo is first), and as far as Dahlia can tell, he doesn't talk much. Unlike his siblings, he's more of a stealth master than a prankster. And that's exactly what she needs.

She's got her companions, unless one of them refuses. She's sure Diamond won't, but she doesn't know Mica well enough to decide whether he will or not. She's hoping he won't, but picks a back-up just in case. It feels wrong, doing that. Asking one person, having them refuse, and then turning around and asking their sister. That's exactly what she's going to do if Mica says no, but she doesn't like the idea.

Of course, she wouldn't blame Mica if he said no. She's putting his life in danger, after all... Wait. Suddenly, Dahlia realizes something. Catia specifically said the one with the terrible fate would be a girl. _"The third, despair, for terrible fate;/ She shall become one of late." _She. If it could be either gender, it would've said "they". So Mica would actually be safe. The one the prophecy spoke of could either be Diamond...or her. Dahlia doesn't want to think about that.

So she doesn't. She gets up and goes over to the back wall, where a row of potted plants await her. She kneels next to one of them, grabs a watering can, and carefully waters it. She smiles a little. Gardening always calms her down, helps her clear her head. She can forget all her problems while she's gardening. Of course, they come right back afterward, but it's a great escape, at least for a little while.

She moves down the row, carefully tending to each plant. It's a slow process, but she loves it. She loves plants.

And this serves its purpose. She forgets all her worries and just focuses on the plants. The only worries she cares about right now are little ones. Like how one of the plants looks a little wilted, and what should she do about that. Or how another plant looks like it's getting too big for its pot and she should find another one, and get her siblings to help her transport the plant from one pot to the other.

Finally, she finishes and sits down on her bunk. She grabs a gardening book from the trunk at the end of her bed and opens it. It's translated into Ancient Greek so demigods can read it, and it's got information about all kinds of plants, flowers, trees, and everything in between.

Unfortunately, she starts getting bored very quickly. She's read this book so many times she basically has it memorized. She sighs and closes the book. And that's when her problems start creeping into her mind again. She feels panicked and scared all over again.

She figures she should probably ask her potential companions if they want to go on the quest with her. So she reluctantly gets up, sets the book on her bunk, and sets out to look for Diamond. She'll be the easier one to ask. Well...at least, she'll be the easier one to get to agree. But as far as asking her, Dahlia will probably be too scared about what might happen to actually ask for about five minutes straight.

And that's exactly what happens. Dahlia finds her friend at swordfighting class, dominating the arena. After the class is over, Diamond notices her and comes over, grinning.

"Hey," she says.

"Hi...," Dahlia murmurs.

Diamond frowns. "What's wrong?"

Dahlia stares at her. _C'mon_, she scolds herself._ Just ask! She'll say yes. _But she can't force the words out of her mouth.

Diamond's frown deepens. "Dahlia? Seriously, what's going on?"

It goes on like that for a while, until Dahlia finally buckles down. She stares at the grass, avoiding Diamond's eyes, and says, "I'm supposed to lead a quest, and I was wondering if you'd go with me."

Now it's Diamond's turn to stare. "What?"

Dahlia finally looks up. She still avoids Diamond's eyes, though, staring over her shoulder instead of actually looking at her. "I have to lead a quest. I want you to go with me. Will you?"

Diamond blinks, then a smile stretches across her face. "Of course I will, Dahli. Why wouldn't I?"

Dahlia shifts uncomfortably. "Well..."

Diamond's face darkens. "What?"

Dahlia tells her what the prophecy said, and suddenly Diamond doesn't look so eager. Then her expression hardens. "I don't care. I'm still going with you. And if something bad happens...so be it."

Dahlia is relieved and panicked at the same time. She's glad her friend is coming with her, of course, but she hates thinking about Diamond getting hurt. If she does, it'll be all Dahlia's fault. Dahlia takes a deep breath and forces a smile.

"Thanks, Diamond. Now, I need to find Mica. Do you know where he is?"

"Probably in his cabin... Why?"

"He's the other companion."

There's a slight pause, then Diamond asks, "Can I go with you?"

Dahlia looks at her. "Sure, I guess. Come on."

So they go looking for Mica.

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**_A/N: Another ending. So sad. Ok, not really. I really seem to like chapter endings that involve people setting out to find other people... Oh well! What did you think of the chapter? Feel free to tell me in a review. Bye for now._**


	4. Chapter 4

_**Disclaimer: I don't own The Hunger Games, Percy Jackson and the Olympians or Heroes of Olympus. They belong to their respective owners: Suzanne Collins and Rick Riordan.**_

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Chapter Four

Finding the stealthiest child of Hermes proves to be difficult. Dahlia supposes she should've expected that. There's a reason he's the stealthiest Hermes kid, after all, but how is it he manages to elude Diamond and her when he doesn't even know they're looking for him? Is it possible that he does? Dahlia doesn't think so. After all, only Diamond knows who her choices for the quest are, and Diamond's been with her since she found out. Besides, Diamond's not the type to go out blabbing secrets like that to the whole world. Catia would, though... Wait. Catia. She doesn't know Dahlia's choices, either, but she's probably alerted the whole camp to Dahlia's quest by now. Maybe that's why they can't find Mica?

Dahlia doesn't really believe that, either. After all, Catia doesn't have anything much juicier to spill than how dangerous the quest will be. Of course, that alone is probably enough for a lot of people to avoid Dahlia, in hopes they won't get recruited. The daughter of Demeter isn't completely sure whether or not Mica would care about that, but she suspects not. Hermes kids tend to enjoy trouble. And this definitely qualifies.

Finally, Diamond stops and throws down her knife. "It's useless. We can find him later. Or you can pick someone else!" She gestures around to the few people milling around the courtyard.

Dahlia stops too, and turns to look at her. "I don't want anyone else. This just feels right, ok? We need him."

She discovers with a shock that that's true. Her choices just feel right, like it's meant to be. She has to assume that means it is. She needs Mica and Diamond with her. No one else can do this. She doesn't understand why, but she knows it's true.

Diamond studies her for a second, then slowly nods. "Ok...but we can't just search blindly. It's getting us nowhere." She bends down and picks her knife up again, then sticks it in its sheath.

Dahlia shrugs. "Unless you have any better ideas..." She trails off, seeing the look in Diamond's eyes. Ok, maybe saying something like that to the daughter of Athena isn't a good idea. Of course Diamond has better ideas. She wouldn't have suggested something else if she didn't. So instead Dahlia says, "What's your plan, then?"

Diamond grins like, _Atta girl__._ Dahlia rolls her eyes.

"The woods," Diamond says. "We won't find him anywhere else."

"How do you know?"

"Because I do. C'mon." Diamond grabs her arm and leads her away.

This is the annoying part. Diamond always acts so sure of herself. Of course, most of the time, she's right, but still. It'd be nice if she'd explain her certainty every once in a while. Then Dahlia could feel certain too, rather than just following blindly, like always. But there's no use asking. Diamond won't explain.

She leads Dahlia into the woods, finding paths like she's walked them all her life. Dahlia wonders how much time Diamond spends in here. Dahlia only ever comes here for capture-the-flag, and even then she's wary. Monsters run rampant in these woods, and sometimes demigods will go into them and not come back out. Dahlia's heard so many stories about the horrors waiting in these woods. So, needless to say, she's not ecstatic to be here.

But she trusts Diamond, and the daughter of Athena isn't letting her go, so she follows. She and Diamond make their way into a clearing that Dahlia's never been to before, but she recognizes it. This is from one of the stories Chiron's told her. It's been rebuilt, so Zeus's Fist again stands tall and proud in the middle of the clearing (or Dahlia assumes that's supposed to be Zeus's Fist; it doesn't look anything like a fist to her). And the scars of battle have been covered by grass and bushes. This is the site of the Battle of the Labyrinth, so many years ago... Dahlia's jaw drops. She feels the need to whisper.

"What are we doing here?"

Diamond glances over at her, sees the awestruck look on her face, and smiles slightly. "Amazing, isn't it? This is where we'll find Mica."

"How do you know?" Dahlia is still whispering.

Diamond points up at the top of the rock structure. Dahlia looks where she's pointing and...oh. There's someone sitting up there, facing away from them. He's dressed in jeans and an orange camp t-shirt, just like Dahlia and Diamond. "Oh," Dahlia murmurs.

Diamond grins and goes over to the structure. She starts to climb. Reluctantly, Dahlia follows. Nervousness is turning her stomach into a mosh pit, and it doesn't help that she's not a huge fan of heights. The rock-climbing wall is terrifying for her. But at least this doesn't clash together and spew lava and otherwise try to kill you. At least, Dahlia hopes it doesn't.

They get to the top with no incident, but still Dahlia feels nauseous. She makes a point to not look down as she sits cross-legged next to Diamond on top of the rock.

Mica noticed their approach. No surprise there, seeing as it wasn't exactly quiet. He looks at them, his expression a mixture of annoyance and, once he recognizes them, confusion. He doesn't anything, just turns his body to face them and studies them with wide dark blue eyes. He flicks his blond-ish brown hair out of them absently.

Diamond gives a winning smile. "Hi, Mica. What's up?" Is it Dahlia's imagination, or is there a hint of nervousness in her voice? Is there a chance Diamond feels anywhere near as uneasy as Dahlia in this moment? Dahlia doubts it. Diamond is rarely nervous.

"What are you doing here?" Mica asks softly, his voice sounding rusty, like he's not used to using it. It also sounds annoyed, like he can't believe they came and interrupted his peace.

That makes Dahlia a little mad. And even more nervous. If he's already angry, then how is he ever going to say yes to Dahlia's impossible request? Plan B is becoming more and more likely, and she hates it. She shouldn't have come. She should've thought about it more...

Suddenly she realizes Mica and Diamond are both looking at her expectantly, and she tries not to blush. What did she miss? Oh...they must be waiting for her to explain. She forces a smile and inhales deeply, then takes the plunge.

"I have to lead a quest and I was wondering if you'd come with us." The words flow out of her so quickly she's not sure he can understand her.

Apparently, he does. He stares at her for a few seconds, in shock. _"Why?"_

That's a very good question. And her answer is going to make it sound like she's using him, but it's all she's got. "Well, you're really good at breaking into places. I have a feeling we'll need that, where we're going." She hopes he doesn't ask the obvious question, seeing as she doesn't know the answer.

"And where _are_ we going?" His voice is still soft, but full of surprise now. The words make her wince. That's the obvious question.

Diamond looks interested at this, too. She doesn't know either. None of them do.

Dahlia shifts uncomfortably. "Um... I don't know." She runs over the prophecy in her head a few times. There's no clue in there about _where_ the "three shall go". She's hoping maybe Chiron will be able to find that out somehow.

Mica and Diamond both stare at her.

"You're _kidding_ me," Diamond says. "You have to lead a quest, but you don't even know where you're leading us _to_?"

Dahlia forces another smile. "Yeah... I was hoping Chiron could figure it out."

Diamond shakes her head.

There's a long silence. Dahlia fiddles with her camp necklace. Finally, though, she can't stand it. She looks at Mica. "So will you come?"

She seems to rip him out of some sort of reverie. He shakes his head and looks at her. "Sorry?"

"Are you coming on the quest?" A bit of her nervousness leaks into her voice.

Mica stares at her for a few seconds, considering. Then he whispers, "What was the prophecy?"

Oh right... Dahlia probably should've mentioned that before. Exchanging a nervous look with Diamond, she tells him her prophecy.

Once she's done, Mica winces. "Ouch," he murmurs. There's a few moments of silence as he bites his lip, probably weighing his options. Then he mutters, "I'm in."

Dahlia can't help being shocked, though the huge smile that breaks across her face sort of sends a mixed message. "You _are_?"

Mica nods. "Sure. Gives me an excuse to get out of here." He sounds casual, but there seems to be some kind of underlying meaning. Proabably his siblings are just as annoying to him as they are to everyone else.

In unison, Dahlia and Diamond murmur, "I know what you mean." Then they look at each other, surprised.

Mica gives a little smile that disappears quickly.

And so the trio is formed. Dahlia doesn't know if that's good or bad.

* * *

_**A/N: As always, feel free to tell me how badly you think I messed up. Or, if you didn't think I messed up, you can tell me how much you love it. That'd make me feel good. Tell me any predictions you might have, or...well, just review. Please? **_


	5. Chapter 5

_**Disclaimer: I don't own The Hunger Games, Percy Jackson and the Olympians or Heroes of Olympus. They belong to their respective owners: Suzanne Collins and Rick Riordan.**_

* * *

Chapter Five

For a while, they just sit there in silence, looking at each other. They decide they should probably go find Chiron, but still they don't move. Dahlia wants to enjoy what may be her final moments at camp, make them last as long as possible. She can only assume that the others do too.

"We should go," Diamond says for the tenth time. Mica and Dahlia nod, but neither of them move. Neither does Diamond, though she sighs, messing with her bead necklace.

Dahlia has no idea how much time has passed, until the sun starts sinking behind the trees and she suddenly realizes it's almost time for dinner. That comes as a shock. She suddenly realizes how stiff she is, and how much she _needs_ to move. She gets up abruptly. "We really should go."

Diamond and Mica look up at her, then they nod and rise, too. They all take different ways down the rock, and even though Dahlia has the head start, she's still the last to touch down. That's a little embarrassing, but she can't help it. Together, the quest group heads back to camp. It's a silent trip. The only thing they'd really be able to talk about is their possible death, though, so that's not surprising.

The second she steps out of the trees, Dahlia hears Catia's voice yelling her name, and her high-pitched giggling. She can see from their expressions that both Mica and Diamond are suppressing groans. Dahlia is too, to be honest. But she forces herself to take a deep breath.

"Come on," she says. "We'd better go find out what she wants."

Her companions nod mutely, neither of them looking especially thrilled. Dahlia doesn't blame them, but she turns and starts toward the sound of Catia's voice. Mica and Diamond follow.

"Dahlia!" Catia's voice screeches. "Dahlia Okelley!"

"What do you want, Catia?" Dahlia asks, coming into view. She tries to keep the annoyance out of her voice, but it doesn't quite work.

Catia jumps and whirls, as if she wasn't expecting Dahlia to show up from that angle. She quickly overcomes the shock, though, and gives Dahlia a blinding white smile, not seeming to notice the people with her.

"There you are," she chirps in that strange accent of hers. "Chiron wants to see you."

"Well, here I am," Dahlia answers lamely. "Where is he?"

"I'll take you." Catia grabs her arm and leads her away. Dahlia shoots a pleading glance at Mica and Diamond as she's dragged away, and they seem to get the message. They follow. Or maybe they're just following out of idle curiosity. Dahlia doesn't really care, as long as they come.

Catia takes her (and, indirectly, Diamond and Mica) to the Big House. She releases her arm and pushes open the door, then walks right in like she owns the place. "Chiron? She's here."

After about two minutes of awkward silence, Chiron comes out, smiling grimly. The expression makes Dahlia nervous. "Hello, Dahlia," he says. His eyebrows raise when he notices Diamond and Mica, but he doesn't comment. He looks at Catia. "Thank you, Catia. You can go now."

The Oracle frowns. "But-"

"Catia, please. I'd like to speak with these demigods alone."

Catia sighs. "Ok..." She gives Dahlia a look, like, _You'd better spill later_, then turns and flounces away.

Dahlia frowns. When did Catia get so ok with talking to her? Maybe she thinks freaking someone out by randomly saying a prophecy counts as bonding? If that's so, Dahlia figures she must have a _very_ strange outlook on the world.

Chiron snaps her out of her thoughts by saying, almost in a sigh, "Come along." He leads the three of them through the Big House to his office.

This is where the picture of Annabeth and Percy is. Almost unconsciously, Dahlia scans the overcrowded walls, looking for the faded photograph. Finally, she finds it, an she can't help the little smile that crosses her face. Chiron follows her gaze and his gloomy expression gets just a little brighter as well. Then he sighs, looking back at the three of them.

"I assume these are who you chose to accompany you?" he asks after a few moments of studying them, sizing them up.

Dahlia nods, trying to look confident, but she's panicking inside. Why does Chiron look so worried? Did she do something wrong? Or does he know something she doesn't...something about the prophecy?

Ok, she knows how ridiculous that last one is. No one understands prophecies, not even the Oracle herself. So how could Chiron know anything more than what she does?

He's been dealing with prophecies longer, though... Maybe after a while of dealing with them, you start to understand them better. She'll have to ask him later. Right now obviously isn't the right time.

Chiron takes a deep breath. "Then I suppose it's good you're all here. I know where you're headed."

A little of the panic goes away. At least now she won't be completely clueless while she's out there. She'll have a goal. She allows herself a brave smile. "You do? Where?"

Chiron looks at her with an expression she doesn't understand. Is that...sympathy? Dahlia frowns, confused.

"District Eleven," he says finally.

And that brings her up short. _Oh_. Her home. Her _old_ home... She feels herself going a little pale. Diamond and Mica's expressions show shock and a little bit of the same sympathy in Chiron's eyes. She gets to go home...but this isn't the way she always imagined it. Actually, she's never really imagined it, except for in the dazed moments right after waking up, when anything seems possible. Because up until this moment, she'd always thought it was impossible, going back to District Eleven, even for a little while.

And now she's going back, on a dangerous quest that might get them all killed, and will end in something terrible happening to at least one of them. Dahlia can't help imagining getting tortured in the Capitol dungeons. She doesn't know exactly what they do in there, but she's heard terrible rumors. Her mind runs a little wild, and she shudders, forcing the image out of her mind. Then she thinks of her dreams again. Diamond told her they were probably just normal dreams, but Dahlia has a bad feeling. She's almost certain the dreams are supposed to be a warning. Only one thing makes her unsure, and it's pretty huge. She doesn't exist to the Capitol. How can she go into the Hunger Games when her name isn't even in that glass bowl? And even if it was, by some freak chance, she'd only have two slips, never having taken tessarae and being only fourteen. The odds would be completely in her favor. She shouldn't even worry about it.

Maybe the dreams really are just normal ones. Or maybe they're supposed to be a metaphor for something else that's going to happen, a way for her subconscious to warn her of trouble in the future, in the only way she really understands. The Hunger Games has always been the biggest threat in her life, even now, when she's free of it. It scares her more than the idea of the Capitol discovering them and raiding the camp.

She realizes she's been silent for a long time, and the others are waiting for her to say something. She tries to come up with something intelligent, but in her shock all she can manage is, "Oh." Her voice sounds weak and very, very small.

Chiron manages a weak smile. "Your mother decreed it. Apparently there have been problems in the fields out there recently. You're supposed to help with that."

Diamond blurts out, "You talked to her?"

Chiron looks at her and his expression turns pained, like it always does when he looks at her. "Yes, my dear. The gods don't speak often, but occasionally, on important matters such as this, they will."

Diamond nods slowly. She doesn't say anything else, and they both look away. Such has always been the relationship between Chiron and Diamond. Their conversations are short, to the point, and they never look directly at each other. Diamond knows how it pains Chiron to be around her, but she doesn't know why. Dahlia thinks that sometimes she might be a little hurt by it.

Right now, though, she looks too distracted to think about that. Dahlia can tell her friend's mind is racing a million miles an hour. She looks back at Chiron, trying to find her voice again.

"So we'll go to District Eleven," she says. Her voice isn't as steady as she was hoping for, but she supposes it's good enough.

Chiron nods, seeming pleased to be back on topic. "Yes. You'll be leaving tomorrow morning. Are you ready?"

Diamond, Mica and Dahlia look at each other. Dahlia could tell they're thinking the same thing as she is: _No._ But, by silent agreement, they all look at Chiron and nod confidently.

Chiron smiles warily. "Good. Then I'll let you go. Try to get a good night's sleep." He frowns as if he doesn't think that's likely. "I'll see you in the morning."

It's not even lunchtime yet. They have until ten to get all the stuff they want for this trip. Dahlia is tempted to bring along something special, some kind of trinket to keep her calm on the way, but she's not sure that's a good idea. She's learned from Chiron's stories that the stuff you pack when you first set out on a quest generally doesn't last long. Still... She grabs her bracelet, the only piece of jewelry she owns. She brought it with her from District Eleven when she ran away. It was a ninth birthday present from her dad. It's not much, just pieces of grass and leaves and things like that woven into a circle, but she loves it. And it's one of the only things left from her time in District Eleven. It just feels right to be wearing it when she goes back there.

She quickly packs up the other stuff she wants to bring, including things the camp store loaned her, extra clothes, and a few other assorted things she might need. Her sword is in its scabbard, attached to her belt. Not very subtle, but she doesn't have much choice. Hopefully the Mist will hide it...or it might make her look like she's carrying a gun. She doesn't want to know what the Peacekeepers' reactions would be if they saw _that_.

Just as she suspected, she doesn't sleep well tonight. She's plagued by dreams of all sorts and wakes up quite a few times in the night, biting back screams and breathing heavily. So she's still tired when she has to get up the next morning.

She trudges up to Thalia's tree, Mica and Diamond flanking her. Chiron waits under the pine tree's shade, in full centaur form. He gives them a wan smile. "Good luck."

The three of them nod, and they step past the protective boundaries for the first time. Instantly, the air gets a little warmer, and a little more humid. A Capitol summer.

They're probably on the radar for every monster in three miles by now. They'd better get going.

Oh, this is going to be a great adventure.

* * *

**_A/N: Finally, they're off! Only took me five chapters to get to this... Heh. Well, as always, tell me what you think of the chapter, if you see any mistakes-you know the drill. I'll let you go now. _**


	6. Chapter 6

_**Disclaimer: I don't own The Hunger Games, Percy Jackson and the Olympians or Heroes of Olympus. They belong to their respective owners: Suzanne Collins and Rick Riordan.**_

* * *

Chapter Six

"We have to be careful," Mica is saying.

Diamond sighs. "We know, Mike. You say that every time."

Mica glares at her, but Dahlia suspects it has more to do with being called Mike than anything else. "That doesn't make it any less true," he says, and Diamond shrugs, not confirming or denying that.

It's been a few weeks since they set out from camp, and they've been through a lot, from monster attacks to tickle fights to sneaking past Peacekeepers and hovercraft zooming overhead. All of them are pretty banged up, but the wounds aren't terrible, thanks to ambrosia and nectar. It's much harder to fight a real monster than the idea of one. They all know that if any of them have to take one more sip of nectar, they'll probably burn alive. So they're determined to not have to take anymore. That's easier said than done, out here.

Now, finally, they're camped outside District Eleven's electric fence, dotted with watchtowers and buzzing with electricity. All that plus the barbed wire lining the top makes it a near impossible feat to overcome. But Mica has an idea. He says they might have a chance, and Dahlia has no choice but to believe him. Of course, considering all they've been through together, that's easy. They've saved each others' lives many times these past few weeks.

It's just their luck that they happened to arrive at District Eleven on the night before the reaping, when the Peacekeepers' numbers are at least double what they normally are. That makes things harder, but still not impossible, at least according to Mica. Dahlia isn't so sure.

He goes over the plan for the fourth time in the past hour, Diamond listening intently, thought knowing her she's already got it memorized and is working on a backup. Which might be a good thing.

Mica is going to sneak over to the little shack, half in and half out of the fence, somehow immune to the electricity sparking all around it. Mica's guess is that that's the control room. He's hoping he'll be able to turn off the fence. Neither Diamond nor Dahlia like all the ifs in his plan, Diamond least of all.

"Even if that is the control room," she whispers, "which I doubt-why would they put it in such an accessible place?-it's going to be full of Peacekeepers. You can't expect no one in there to notice a sixteen-year-old kid messing with the controls."

"I'm really good at staying hidden," Mica argues, looking offended, like she insulted his honor.

"And I'm not saying you're not," Diamond counters. "But think, Mica. How easy do you think it'll be to hide? There are probably all kinds of security sensors around that place, to warn the Peacekeepers of intruders. And even if you can somehow find and disable them all, you'll get noticed. It's probably bright as day in there,_ if_ it's the control room. There'll be no shadows to hide in."

Mica frowns. Dahlia can tell he's finally breaking to Diamond's perfect logic.

Then his face hardens, the stubbornness that has become so evident in him appearing once again. "Diamond, I can do this. That place is important. We can use it."

Diamond smiles. "I never said we couldn't." Dahlia is now certain Diamond has been working on a plan this entire time, and now she's ready to drop it on them.

It's funny, Dahlia was supposed to be the leader of this quest, but they've all sort of led together, each one taking the lead whenever their expertise was needed most. Dahlia's been most helpful with the survival aspect of this, helping the others find food and water in the wilderness. Diamond is best with plans, of course, like defeating monsters and secret raids on Mica's tent in the middle of the night, where they nearly tickled him to death, more than once (hey, even on a quest you have to have fun sometimes; you'll go crazy if you don't), and other things like that. And Mica's good with hiding. He's picked places to sleep where no one and nothing would spot them, helped them avoid getting attacked by quite a few monsters (most of the ones they actually had to fight were really, _really_ good at surprise attacks), and directed them around a bunch of Peacekeepers near District One, who were wandering through the forest, apparently looking for something (or _someone_, Dahlia had thought with a chill).

By now, they're a team, basically unstoppable. It's really amazing, especially considering that only a few weeks ago Dahlia didn't know anything more about Mica than his name and his basic personality.

Dahlia finally decides to speak up. "So what's your plan, Di?" she asks.

Mica glares at her, but Diamond smiles wider. "I'm glad you asked," she says, giving Mica a sweet smile of victory, like, _See? Even she agrees with me. _

Dahlia smiles reluctantly, while Mica rolls his eyes. He seems to resign himself to listen, apparently getting that he's never getting the spotlight back now. "Thanks a lot, Dahli," he mutters in Dahlia's ear, and she can't help but smirk.

Diamond either doesn't notice or ignores this exchange. She gets right to business, laying down the plan, drawing a map in the dirt with her finger. It's fairly simple, but Diamond seems certain it'll work. _Of course she is_, Dahlia thinks. _Why wouldn't she be? _And it involves the shack.

Distraction is the main point in this. And Mica will get to use his skills, and Dahlia hers. She gets to cause the distraction, after all. Most of it, anyway. She smiles wickedly. "I like this idea."

Mica looks sullen, but he nods. "I do too," he murmurs. His expression looks as if he wishes Diamond wouldn't hear that.

Diamond smiles. "So you're in?"

"Of course," Dahlia replies at the same time that Mica shrugs and says, his old quiet demeanor back with his somewhat bad mood, "I guess."

"Good." Diamond rises. She scrubs her foot over her map, destroying the evidence. Dahlia shoots a quick, nervous look all around her as she stands as well. She sees no one but the two kids she's co-led across the country. Her best friends.

Mica's starting to look better. Maybe it's the excitement. He's going to be doing his favorite things. Running, sneaking, hiding, while Diamond and Dahlia get to make all the noise. They can only hope it'll be enough to spark a reaction.

They all look at one other like, _Good luck._ Then they move to their positions.

Dahlia scrambles up a tree and watches the scene unfold through the leaves. One hand is against the trunk and the other holding the branch above her, both attempts to keep her balance on the branch. Falling out of the tree wouldn't help her case at all.

Down below, she can make out Diamond. At least, she assumes it must be Diamond, but in the darkness, she just looks like a shadow, except for the flash of her blond hair as she steps out into the moonlight. Dahlia watches the shadow move slowly toward the fence, and she starts to panic. What if this is a bad idea? What if they get caught? This plan doesn't exactly rely on stealth, not for Diamond and Dahlia, anyway.

Then Diamond chucks her handful of rocks at the fence, there's a loud _ZING_, and an explosion of sparks. And it's too late, because the plan's already in motion.

That gets attention. Suddenly there are a lot of spotlights on that part of the fence, but Diamond isn't there anymore. She's running through the trees, scaring animals, trampling leaves underfoot, and basically making as much noise as she can. Dahlia can easily track her progress from this vantage point, until she disappears behind a branch. Diamond is supposed to be leading them toward this river they found, then circling back toward the fence, hoping the Peacekeepers will be out there looking for a while.

The plan seems to be working, because suddenly a lot of people in white Peacekeeper uniforms march out of that half-in, half-out shack and disperse into the woods. Dahlia takes a deep breath and closes her eyes. She reaches out in her head, her mind running through the grass, feeling it like it's a part of her. She imagines the grass wrapping around a Peacekeeper's ankles. Inhale, exhale, and suddenly there are thudding sounds all around her, groans, and cursing. She smiles to herself and opens her eyes. Mission accomplished, for now, but she already feels a little tired. She shakes her head. She'll just have to deal with it.

Another group of Peacekeepers emerge from the shack, and once they're in the trees, Dahlia sees a shape blur across the grass. Mica, beyond a doubt. He comes to an abrupt stop next to the shack. He seems to be studying it.

But Dahlia can't focus on that. She looks all around her. It's not that hard to spot white in darkness, so the Peacekeepers are easy to see, all around her. But she can only see about half the amount that should be out here. She's assuming the other half must've made it to the river. She wonders where Diamond is, and how she's going to get past all these people, as she carefully climbs down her tree. Her feet touch the grass almost silently, and she tiptoes away.

She can hear the sounds of the people all around her. They're obviously trying to be quiet, but the occasional snapping branch or crunching leaf gives them away. Dahlia has to be very careful where she steps or else the same could be said for her. She doesn't want that.

As she walks through the trees, she twists her bracelet around her wrist. It managed to survive the past few weeks, a fact that comes as a huge shock for Dahlia. Seeing as _she_ barely managed to do the same, it's just unbelieveable. But she's glad it did. It helps calms her down in tense moments-like now, for instance.

She spreads out her senses occasionally, focusing, and brings more Peacekeepers to their knees. But with each new trick, she feels a little more fatigued. And the Peacekeepers just keep coming. Why do they think it's necessary to have this many people looking for what they think is only one person? Sure, Diamond's strong and all, but Dahlia figures it'd probably only take one or two Peacekeepers to take her down. Mica, however...that's a different story. He's used to having to get away. It might take quite a few people to take him down.

She shakes the thought from her head. The point is that none of them _have_ to get taken down. That's the way Diamond devised the plan, and that's how it'll go. Hopefully.

By the time she makes it to the little shack, she feels bone-tired. She's certain she'll pass out any second, but she can't.

Mica's already inside, frowning. When she comes in, his expression brightens a little, but then he looks past her shoulder, searching for someone else. Diamond.

"Where is she?" he whispers.

Dahlia shrugs. "She isn't here yet?" she whispers back.

Mica shakes his head, drawing a frown from Dahlia.

They have no choice but to wait, but the wait is anxious and scary and...just the tiniest bit boring. There's nothing to do in here. It's basically just a doorway to get outside. It's just a short hallway with doors on either end so Peacekeepers can come in and out of the district. Mica had to disable about twenty different security measures to get in. Dahlia imagines there are even more on the other side. They sure as heck don't want citizens getting out.

From what Dahlia remembers of this place, however, a lot of the citizens are scared into submission. They won't do anything but what they're supposed to, because they've been freaked out by the public beatings and other such punishments. Dahlia was like that, too, honestly. No matter how badly she wanted to, she never rushed in and jumped between the Peacekeeper and whatever poor soul they were punishing. She didn't want to get hurt too.

She doubts very many of District Eleven's people are crazy enough to try to get out. But that doesn't mean the Peacekeepers still won't take every precaution they can.

It feels like hours before Diamond finally shows up, with a bloody cut on her face and a limp.

Dahlia and Mica spring to their feet at the same moment. "What _happened_?"

"Shh!" Diamond hisses, looking around warily. She grabs each of their arms and leads them toward the opposite door, whispering, "I'll tell you later. Right now, we need to get out of here. Mica?"

He nods, then sets to work. Diamond grows dissatisfied with how long it's taking and helps, and Dahlia ends up helping too. Eventually, they manage to get the door to open, without having to scan their eyes or their fingerprints. Mica takes the first cautious step outside and nothing happens, so Dahlia and Diamond follow suit.

Just then, another horde of Peacekeepers start toward them, probably to join the search. The three of them look around frantically, then Mica seems to spot somewhere. He runs for it, and Dahlia and Diamond follow.

Unfortunately, the Peacekeepers notice this. There are shouts of "Hey!" and "Stop!", but the trio ignores them. The Peacekeepers follow them, but Mica, Dahlia and Diamond are younger and faster. They manage to lose them. Mica pulls them down behind one of the watchtowers and they wait, trying to control their panting. At least, Diamond and Dahlia are. Mica doesn't seem to be very tired at all. Dahlia supposes that must be one of the perks of being a Hermes kid. You can run really fast and you don't even get that tired when you do. Dahlia doesn't think that's very fair, but it's not like she can do anything about it.

A few minutes later, a small group of Peacekeepers run past. Dahlia tries to get up, but both Diamond and Mica pull her back down.

"What?" she whispers.

"It's a trick," Diamond says nervously. "There were more than that before. We need to wait."

Dahlia frowns. She flattens herself against the tower again.

Five or six minutes later, a larger group walks by, muttering to one another, frowning, and scanning the area, looking for any signs of life. They apparently find nothing. The trio waits until they're completely out of sight before they get up.

"That was close," Mica mutters as he steps out into the open, scanning the place like he's expecting more unwanted visitors to suddenly appear.

"Too close," Diamond agrees, stepping out as well. "We have to be more careful."

Dahlia steps out too. "Yeah. We need to find a place to sleep." All of this is so familiar to her. She's home... She still hasn't completely grasped that.

Mica and Diamond look at her and nod. "But where?" Mica asks.

"I've got an idea," Dahlia mutters. She leads them away.

It's good to be home.

* * *

_**A/N: My longest chapter to date. 2,689 words. What do you think of it? Feel free to tell me in a review.**_


	7. Chapter 7

_**Disclaimer: I don't own The Hunger Games, Percy Jackson and the Olympians or Heroes of Olympus. They belong to their respective owners: Suzanne Collins and Rick** **Riordan.**_

* * *

Chapter Seven

Dahlia wakes up to the sound of birds chirping. She sits up and blearily looks around, not sure where she is for a moment. Then the memory of last night hits her like a tidal wave, and she's suddenly on alert. The Peacekeepers are probably still looking at them, and though they're in a safe spot for the moment, they'll have to be careful the next few days. Of course, it was dark. Dahlia doubts any of the Peacekeepers could see well enough to tell what any of them look like, beyond approximate height and gender. Still...

They're camped out behind a cluster of houses that runs right into an orchard. It's a tight fit, but no one will go looking for them here. At least, Dahlia hopes not.

She looks around. Mica and Diamond are still asleep and so, it seems, is everyone else in District Eleven. Dahlia frowns. That's not normal... Then she remembers what day it is. Reaping day. Oh right...

District Eleven's reaping is in the afternoon, so Dahlia figures people are trying to take advantage of the off day, either sleeping in or attempting to do so and completely failing. And all the kids probably didn't get much sleep last night...

Of course, Dahlia didn't sleep extremely well either. Dreams. She hates dreams.

She sighs and starts packing up. She doesn't know what she and her friends will do today, but they can't stay here. Someone will notice them eventually. Peacekeepers are very thorough on reaping days, looking all around every house to make sure no one's hiding away. And what will they find when they look behind this house? Three kids who are hiding out. At least, that's what they'll think, and Dahlia can't exactly explain to them that they're not even supposed to be there. They're kids from this place called Camp Half-Blood, hidden on the Capitol's eastern border, and they're here on a quest. That wouldn't go over well. It'd just be better if they don't get found.

Of course, that probably means they'll have to go to the reaping, which is the last thing Dahlia wants to do, even though she knows her name can't be called. Maybe they could just hide out somewhere...

She's trying to be quiet, but apparently not hard enough, because she soon has two very grumpy quest companions glaring at her. She gives them each a bright smile. "Morning."

Diamond's glare intensifies. She sits up. Mica groans and mumbles something about "annoying early risers." Dahlia rolls her eyes. It's not even that early, judging by how light the sky is.

"Did you have to wake us up?" Diamond doesn't sound as annoyed as Dahlia was expecting.

"I wasn't trying to," Dahlia answers simply, rolling up her sleeping bag and tucking it into her backpack. "It's not my fault you two are extremely light sleepers," she continues.

"That's not true and you know it."

Dahlia shrugs. "It's not like you can't go back to sleep, if you want to."

In fact, it seems like Mica's already done that. Diamond glances at him, then looks back at Dahlia. "I guess that's true..."

"Exactly. Sweet dreams." Dahlia breaks out a protein bar and takes a bite.

Diamond grins. She climbs out of her sleeping bag and starts to roll it up. "Can't get rid of me that easily."

"Dang it," Dahlia replies, giving Diamond a half-smile.

Before she can answer, Mica mutters something about... a teddy bear...in his sleep. Dahlia and Diamond look at each other for a second, then burst out laughing. Somehow, Mica doesn't wake up.

* * *

Later on, they're all set, and Mica's awake. They eat a fabulous breakfast consisting of protein bars and...well, protein bars. They don't have anything else, and neither of them really feels like sneaking into the orchard to steal something else.

Then they start the discussion. What are they going to do? They have a few hours until the reaping, and they need to have a plan for when it comes around. They'll have to hide, somewhere the Peacekeepers have no chance of finding them. But where?

There's really nowhere like that. There's a reason there are so many extra Peacekeepers on reaping days, after all. They'll be looking everywhere. Hiding will be really hard.

Diamond suggests that maybe they shouldn't hide. After all, going to the reaping wouldn't kill them. It's not like they can get picked.

"Yeah," Dahlia says. "But you're supposed to sign in. Our names wouldn't be on the records."

Diamond and Mica shrug at the same time, like this doesn't concern them. Diamond opens her mouth to respond, but Mica beats her to it. "I can get us past them."

Diamond doesn't seem to care. Dahlia assumes she must've been planning to say something similar.

"Ok," Dahlia says slowly, "but there are other problems too."

Mica frowns in confusion. "Like what?" At the same time, Diamond sighs. At least she understands.

Both Diamond and Dahlia look at Mica incredulously.

"People wear nice clothes to reapings," Diamond explains. She gestures to her clothes, which are torn and spattered in dirt and a little blood. Dahlia figures she doesn't look much better, and she knows Mica doesn't.

"Oh." Mica frowns.

"We'll stick out," Diamond says. "And that's the last thing we want."

"Well... I could steal some nice stuff," Mica muses. "There's gotta be a store that sells that crap somewhere around here."

Dahlia frowns at his use of the word "crap" to describe it, but nods. "There is. It's in the square where they hold the reapings."

Mica smiles. But before he can say anything, Diamond holds up her hands.

"Whoa," she says, looking at Mica. "You're kidding, right? Do you realize how much trouble you'll be in if you get caught?"

Mica shrugs. "I won't get caught. Trust me. I've done this a million times before."

Diamond frowns and looks at Dahlia for support. The girl in question shifts uncomfortably.

"You didn't live in District Eleven before," she says uncertainly. "The punishments are really brutal here..."

Mica just shrugs again. "I'm fast. They won't be able to catch me, even if the theft's discovered. I'll be in and out before the Peacekeepers can even arrive on the scene."

Diamond and Dahlia both stare at him.

"You're insane," Diamond decides. "You realize the square's gonna be crawling with Peacekeepers, right? They won't have to do any 'arriving'. They'll already be there."

"I can handle it," Mica insists, getting up. "You two just wait here. I'll be back."

"Mic-" But he's already gone.

Diamond and Dahlia share a worried glance, but they have no choice but to wait, and hope that Mica will be ok.

* * *

Thirty or forty minutes later he appears, and he's ok. Actually, he seems to be more than ok as he holds up a bundle triumphantly, grinning like crazy, his eyes wild. He has a few scrapes on his arms and hands, but is otherwise unscathed. Diamond trickles a little nectar over the wounds, tutting with disapproval, but Mica doesn't seem to care.

"I got it," he says breathlessly. He holds up his bundle again.

"Yeah, we see that, Mike," Diamond mutters. She takes the bundle from him and shakes out one of the dresses. It's simple but beautiful. Gray with a little sash around the waist, embroidered with a grape vine. No other embellishments, but it doesn't really need any. And yet Diamond purses her lips, disappointed. "No accounting for taste," she murmurs.

Mica shrugs, sitting down on the ground next to her. "I kind of grabbed at random. You're lucky they look this good."

Diamond manages a little smile. She looks at the dress with distaste, though. Dahlia wonders if maybe that doesn't have anything to do with just the fact that it's a dress. Diamond has never been especially fond of them. Dahlia doesn't mind them. Actually, she likes them. She just doesn't have many.

She grabs the other dress from the pile. It's dark blue, with a little v-neck, nothing that would be too embarrassing, and a bit of fancy stitching around the hem. Dahlia stares at it.

Mica studies the stuff he grabbed for himself halfheartedly. "I wasn't sure on the sizes," he says. "I just grabbed what looked about right. Didn't have a bunch of time to browse."

Dahlia and Diamond both nod.

"We can manage," Diamond says. She stands and slips into the orchard next to their hiding spot.

She comes back out wearing the dress. It's obviously just a little too big, but she makes do by tying the sash as tight as she can without choking herself. She doesn't look happy, but she _does_ look pretty. Mica inhales sharply when she emerges, and Dahlia bites her lip, smiling.

The dress ends just below Diamond's knees. Her curly blond hair is swept over one shoulder and glistens slightly in the sunlight. Her gray eyes pop. She's not wearing makeup, and her hair is still a little mussed, but she looks beautiful.

Except for the scowl on her face. She looks at Dahlia like, _Your turn._ Dahlia smiles, picks up her dress, and disappears into the orchard.

She quickly changes, then smooths out the hem. Her dress is about the same length as Diamond's, around knee-length. But hers fits perfectly, which surprises and pleases her.

She runs her fingers through her hair and looks down at her feet. She's wearing tennis shoes, which look really strange with the pretty blue dress. _Oh well_, she thinks. She doesn't have any others to wear, so she'll just have to deal. At least with the dress she won't stand out quite as much.

She goes back to their little camp. Diamond and Mica look up, and their eyes widen. That either means she looks terrible or good. She doesn't really care which right now, just looks at Mica, who sighs, grabs his bundle and disappears into the orchard too.

Dahlia looks at Diamond now, and runs her hands through her hair, brushing it as best she can. Diamond's not scowling anymore, but she still doesn't look happy with her predicament.

Dahlia manages a smile. "Hey, if it helps any, you look pretty."

Diamond smiles slightly. "Thanks. You do too." Dahlia can tell she's still unhappy.

"Thanks."

Mica comes back out. He's decked out in a light blue button-up shirt and black pants. There's already a purple stain on the shirt, probably the result of him either crashing into a bunch of berries or breaking them open and squirting the juice on his shirt. Dahlia smiles a little at the thought. He's not clumsy (like, _at all_. He's probably the least clumsy person she's ever met), so she assumes it must be the latter.

Diamond notices the stain too. She smiles fondly, rolling her eyes. "Nice accessory, Mike."

Mica grins at her. "Thanks," he says lightly.

Dahlia gets up. "We should get going," she says. "It's almost time."

They look around the edge of the house and, yes, there are people streaming toward the reaping square. They look at each other, then join the crowd.


	8. Chapter 8

_**Disclaimer: I don't own The Hunger Games, Percy Jackson and the Olympians or Heroes of Olympus. They belong to their respective owners: Suzanne Collins and Rick Riordan.**_

* * *

Chapter Eight

It doesn't take long for them to get split up, no matter how hard they try not to. The crowd just insists on them not staying together, and soon Dahlia's all alone in a sea of finely dressed people. She tries to find her friends, but they're nowhere to be seen.

She gets pushed into the reaping square, barely having to walk at all. Half the time she feels like she's just being dragged, and the other half she's hopping around, trying to keep her balance as a bunch of people push against her from all around.

She finds the fourteen-year-olds' section with difficulty and tries to push through the crowd to find Diamond. She should be around here somewhere. Mica won't be, though. He's stuck in the sixteen area, and they'll have to figure out a way to find him after all this is over.

Most people just move out of her way, an annoyed grunt escaping their lips. Others refuse to move and she has to reroute. Others are just plain mean, swearing quietly at her and pushing her away. So it's a slow process. And even when the square falls silent, Dahlia ignores it and keeps searching. People seem to be even more annoyed (and shocked) after that.

Up on the stage, the mayor is talking, but Dahlia's not paying any attention. She knows this story anyway. She came here every year before she went to camp, of course. She had no choice.

The escort moves up to the microphone and starts talking. Dahlia glances over vaguely, straining to remember what the lady's name is... Apple? Antonia? She thinks it might be the latter.

The escort chirps, "My name is Toni! I'm very happy to be here in..._lovely_ District Eleven." Her nose wrinkles just slightly as she looks out over the sea of starving people, but she covers it up quickly. Dahlia almost laughs.

So Antonia was right, she decides. Toni must be a nickname. She tunes out the escort's way-too-happy voice and keeps pushing through the crowd. She pushes past a group of boys, who try to knock her down. She stumbles backward, then sighs. She moves around them this time, and doesn't miss the nervous smirks they give her.

Dahlia keeps going, ignoring them. Up on the stage, Toni is making her way over to the girls' sphere.

And then...

"Dahlia Okelley."

Dahlia barely hears that, but she does hear two distinct gasps, one from nearby, one from farther away. She frowns and turns toward the stage, confused.

Her mind is still sorting it out. What did Toni say?

Then, cautiously, Toni asks, "Dahlia Okelley? Please come forward."

And Dahlia hears another gasp, from very close. After a moment, she realizes it's hers. Still uncomprehending, she takes a dazed step forward, her hand partially raised, as if telling the world to stop for a moment. Her mind is spinning.

_Dahlia Okelley. Dahlia Okelley?_ That's...that's her name. But...but that's not possible! She doesn't exist! Not to the Capitol, anyway. Her raised hand is shaking, she suddenly notices. Actually, her whole body is shaking. She feels someone's hand on her arm, some hurried comfort whispered into her ear, but her ears are ringing. She can't understand the words.

She hears her own voice whisper, "No."

Toni's spotted her now, the only person on the verge of a mental breakdown in the square. "Is that you, dear? Come forward."

Numbly, Dahlia stares up at the escort, uncomprehending. _This isn't possible_, she tells herself. _It's just one of your crazy Hunger Games_ _dreams. Soon you'll wake up and this'll all be over._

Before she can pinch herself awake, though, the voice in her ears breaks through the ringing. "You need to go," it whispers- it sounds like a girl to Dahlia, "or you'll get in even more trouble." Then the hand pushes her forward.

She almost falls, but catches her balance and shakes her head. She takes a deep breath, then starts toward the stage. She has no problem getting through the crowd now. They move out of her way as if she's the plague. They don't want to catch her bad luck.

And they don't even realize just how bad her luck is.

_No_, Dahlia thinks fiercely. _It's just a dream. Just a dream._

But some small part of her thinks otherwise, and she's afraid to pinch herself and find out the truth.

Toni's smiling now, waving her forward. She looks almost normal for a Capitol citizen. Her eyes are an unnatural purple, and her skin is way too pale, but her hair, though wildly curly and with a huge pink bow covering half of it, is a normal brown. She has on too much makeup, but no tattoos or other such decorations. She's dressed in a bright pink pencil skirt and a matching blazer with a light blue blouse underneath, and, of course, tall heels to match her skirt.

Dahlia mounts the steps numbly and makes her way up to Toni's side. She turns and faces the crowd. She finds Diamond and Mica easily, staring up at her with a mixture of shock, disbelief, horror, and sadness. She smiles at them, trying to tell them it's ok, and they just frown with confusion.

Then Dahlia notices someone else, standing at the edge of the crowd. It's a man, in maybe his late thirties or early forties, staring at her in shock. It takes Dahlia a second to understand before shock flickers across her own face. That's her _father_. A gasp escapes her mouth, and she stares at him, open-mouthed. She quickly masks her expression, though. Her eyes flicker away from him and land on Diamond's face. Now she looks even more confused. Dahlia meets Mica's eyes next. He looks pretty much the same as Diamond.

There are footsteps on the stairs, bringing Dahlia back to the present. She was so distracted she missed the name being called. Oh well. _This is just a dream_, she reminds herself. _It doesn't matter what his name is._

She really should just pinch herself, get out of this nightmare. But she can't bring herself to do it. A small part of her is still worried that maybe this might not be a dream. A line from her prophecy echoes in her head: _The third, despair, for terrible fate_. She shakes her head, forcing that thought from her mind. This _is_ a dream. It has to be.

But then she can't think about that anymore, because the national anthem's playing, and she's shaking hands with her fellow tribute- tall, about fifteen, jet-black hair, brown eyes. Then they let go and the Peackeepers are there, dragging them into the Justice building for their final good-byes.

Dahlia hopes she wakes up soon.

* * *

**_A/N: I'm sorry about the late update. School started, and, to be honest, I just didn't feel like writing. I know that's not a good reason, but...it's all I've got. Of course, there are probably only about four people who actually care. That being said, please review! _**

**_Oh, and if there's anything wrong with the way the reaping went, I'm sorry. I couldn't find my copy of _The Hunger Games_ to check. So if I messed up, please tell me. Good-bye (hopefully not for long this time)._  
**


	9. Chapter 9

_**Disclaimer: I don't own The Hunger Games, Percy Jackson and the Olympians or Heroes of Olympus. They belong to their respective owners: Suzanne Collins and Rick Riordan.**_

* * *

Chapter Nine

Dahlia flops down on the couch in the room the Peacekeepers shoved her into. It smells musty. The windows are curtained, with only a few vestiges of light filtering through them.

The first person to come through the door is...her father. He just closes the door behind him and stares at her. Dahlia is surprised for a moment- she was expecting her friends to come first. Then she jumps to her feet.

"Daddy!" She rushes into his arms, hugging him as tight as she can. So what if this is a dream? She gets to see her dad again. There's no way she's giving that up.

Her dad is shocked for a moment, then he hugs her back. "Oh, Dahlia." His voice cracks. "I thought you were...were dead."

Dahlia pulls away. "Well, I'm not," she says.

"Yet," he mutters under his breath. Then he forces a smile, his eyes watery with tears. "I can see that. Where were you?"

"I went to camp," Dahlia murmurs. Her father's eyes widened.

"You..."

"Daddy, I had to," Dahlia whispers. "The monsters were coming more and more often. Eventually, they would've killed me. Or...or you. I couldn't risk that."

Dad sighs. He draws her into a hug again. "I know you couldn't, sweetheart. I just wish you'd warned me."

"I'm sorry."

He pulls away again and meets her eyes. "Rotten time for a reunion," he comments, and Dahlia can tell he's trying desperately to keep his voice steady. She frowns. What is he talking about? Oh... Right.

She wants to tell him that it's all just a dream, but he'll never believe her. He'll think she's gone insane, and she can't afford him being more worried than necessary (of course, it's not necessary to worry at all). She manages a dry laugh. "Yeah."

He doesn't smile. His eyes harden, and he blinks tears out of them. "Oh, gods, Dahlia. How could this...how did you...?"

"It's a long story," Dahlia whispers. She hates seeing him in this much pain. He just got his daughter back and now, in all likelihood, he'll lose her again, in the most brutal way possible these days.

Good thing it's just a dream.

Dahlia has to constantly remind herself of that. Everything feels so real... Her doubts keep getting stronger, but she forces them down. She doesn't exist, according to the Capitol. She _can't_ be reaped.

Her father blinks more tears out of his eyes. He touches her cheek. "Ok... Do me proud, sweetheart. Do your mother proud. Just...just..." He can't finish the sentence.

Dahlia hugs him again. "I love you, Daddy," she whispers. "It'll... It'll be ok."

Her dad doesn't answer. A few minutes later, the door opens, and two Peacekeepers step in. "Time's up, sir. You need to go."

Reluctantly, Dad pulls away. "I love you, Dahli," he whispers. Then the Peacekeepers drag him away.

A few minutes later, Diamond and Mica come in. There are tears in Diamond's eyes, and even Mica's. This comes as a shock to her. She's never seen them cry. Ever. Diamond blinks away her tears and hugs Dahlia.

She pulls away quickly, her gray eyes angry and sad. "How did this happen?" she cries. "You're not even supposed to exist to them!"

"I don't know," Dahlia murmurs. "But it'll be ok."

_"Ok?"_ Diamond and Mica burst out in unison. "This is not _ok_, Dahli," Diamond continues. "You...you could die." Her voice quivers.

Dahlia sighs. "It's really fine," she says. "I promise. Soon this'll all be over."

Diamond and Mica stare at her. "How are you so calm?" Mica blurts.

Dahlia shrugs. She sits down on the couch and stares at the floor. "It's... This is just one of my crazy dreams. I have them a lot now. Every night..." She shivers, then looks up and meets Diamond's worried gray eyes. "It has to be. I can't... I don't... I don't...exist." Her own doubts leak into her voice at the end, and she feels tears spring into her eyes, panic starting to overwhelm her. Then she squeezes her eyes shut, clenches her fists and teeth. _No_, she tells herself. _Don't think__ like that. This _has _to be a dream... Right? _

She opens her eyes in time to see Diamond and Mica exchange a worried glance. They sit down on either side of her, and Diamond puts her arm around her. "Dahlia..."

"I know you think I'm crazy. But...it's all I can come up with. This can't... It _can't_ be real." Her voice cracks a thousand times. She's still too afraid to try the pinching trick.

"But it is," Diamond whispers. Dahlia shakes her head furiously. Diamond sighs shakily. "Look, Dahlia, I'd give anything for this to be a dream. But it's not. You're just in shock. Now you need to listen to me."

Dahlia shakes her head again. She gets to her feet. "No, no, no, no..." Finally, she gets up all her courage, closes her eyes, sucks in a huge breath, and pinches her arm, hard. It hurts, and when she opens her eyes again...nothing has changed. She crumples to her knees, tears springing to her eyes again. "No," she whispers.

Back at camp, everyone was always halfway expecting a Capitol hovercraft to come zooming in and destroy the place, but Dahlia never imagined she would die like _this_. This wasn't supposed to be possible. Demigods couldn't be reaped. They didn't exist to the Capitol.

But that didn't keep Dahlia from being reaped.

She feels hands patting her back, Mica and Diamond's voices trying to calm her down.

"I'm gonna die," she mutters. "I am going to die."

"No, you're not," Diamond says firmly, tightening her arm around her. "You're going to listen to me, ok? And you won't die."

Dahlia looks at her tearfully, then at Mica, who gives her a wan smile. "She's got a plan," he says.

Dahlia manages a smile in return, nods, then looks at Diamond again.

"Be careful," Diamond says. "You'll be faster than most of the other tributes, I'd bet. Grab whatever you can, as quick as you can, then book it. Got that?"

Dahlia nods.

Diamond continues: "You'll be good with the survival aspect of it, obviously. Don't be afraid to use your powers if you have to. The Mist will hide it, most likely. But just in case, try to make it as subtle as you can."

Dahlia already knew all this. She's calming down, though, listening to the advice, so she doesn't mind. "Ok."

"As for fighting, well...you can hold your own, I'll admit. But it'll be better if you just try to avoid all contact with the other tributes. Stay hidden, and keep moving. Try to avoid Gamemaker tricks."

"Or you could take your tracker out," Mica suggests under his breath. "That way they can't find you to trick you."

Both Diamond and Dahlia shiver.

"Sounds painful," Dahlia murmurs.

"Yeah, but it's probably a lot less painful than anything the Gamemakers could do to you."

Dahlia carefully files that information. She'll have to do some serious debating on this.

"Anyway," Diamond says, "if you do that, you'll be fine. You might even win."

Dahlia refuses to get her hopes up. "I don't-"

The door opens, and the two Peacekeepers step in. "Out," one of them commands.

All three of them get up. Diamond hugs her, then Mica does. Both of them press something into her hand. Her bracelet is her district item...but maybe she can figure out a way to smuggle these two things with her, too, once she actually knows what they are. She can't check now. She watches the Peacekeepers lead Diamond and Mica away and tries not to feel like this is the last time she'll ever see them. Suddenly she's trying not to cry.

She can't look weak. She's in the Hunger Games now, and it's _not_ a dream. She's already messed up too much to look like she had a breakdown during her good-byes, even though she did. She wipes her eyes quickly, as the Peacekeepers come back into the room.

They lead her out into the car, where she gets jammed in with Toni and the boy tribute from Eleven. She'll have to learn his name eventually... But now's not the time.

When they get to the train station, Dahlia keeps her face clear of all emotion. She has tear streaks on her cheeks, she knows, but she doesn't care. Not much, anyway.

She boards with her tribute partner and escort, and they set out for the Capitol. Dahlia can't help but feel like she's racing toward her doom.

* * *

_**A/N: So you know the drill. Please review. Tell me any mistakes I made, from typos to grammar errors to inconsistencies with the books. Tell me any thoughts you might have. And anxiously await the next chapter. Bye for now. **_


	10. Chapter 10

_**Disclaimer: I don't own The Hunger Games, Percy Jackson and the Olympians or Heroes of Olympus. They belong to their respective owners: Suzanne Collins and Rick Riordan.**_

* * *

Chapter Ten

The boy's name is Adair. He gets on Dahlia's nerves. He was in her year at school two years ago, and he used to tease her to no end. Not much has changed, apparently.

"So where've you been, Dahli?" he asks the second the doors close behind them. "I've missed you."

"That makes one of us," Dahlia mutters, and Adair smiles.

"See? You always know exactly what to say."

Dahlia rolls her eyes. She turns to Toni, who's snickering under her breath. "So?" Dahlia says.

"Huh? Oh, right. I'll show you your rooms now."

Dahlia's room is beautiful. The bed is huge and softer than anything she's ever felt, and covered with silky sheets. Even the bathroom has a kind of beauty to it, along with a shower, which Dahlia immediately takes advantage of. She quickly discovers how strange Capitol showers are, and when she finally steps out, she smells like lilacs and roses in an odd mixture.

But at least she's clean.

Having nothing else to wear, she just puts the dress back on and smooths it out. Then she leaves.

Toni, Adair and two other people, one a man, maybe in his late twenties, early thirties, the other a woman in her late thirties or early forties - they must be the mentors- are waiting for her in the living room. She tries to remember their names... Chaff and Seeder? Yeah, that's right.

When she walks into the room, all of them look up. They all smile, but each in a different way. Toni's smile is bright but empty, bored; she doesn't really care. Adair's is kind of a smirk, like, _Finally, you show up._ Seeder's is polite, easy, her golden brown eyes glinting warmly. Dahlia can't help but smile back.

Chaff's smile is friendly and imposing at the same time. Even though he's seated, Dahlia can tell he's tall, and that the arm that he draped over the back of the chair so he could turn toward her _doesn't have a hand on it._ She meets his eyes, her smile becoming a little forced.

"Well, hey," he says. His smile widens. "Who's this?"

Dahlia clears her throat. She manages, "Dahlia Okelley."

Chaff grins and gets up. He walks over to her and offers her his hand. "Nice to meet you, Dahlia. Name's Chaff."

Dahlia shakes his hand. "I know," she says.

He laughs. "Right. Of course you do. Who doesn't?"

"Chaff," Seeder calls. "Sit down. We're just about to watch the reapings."

Chaff nods and gives a small bow, winking at Dahlia. Then he sits down again. Dahlia finds a place to sit, and they all turn toward the TV.

District One has volunteers, like usual. As does Two and Four. All of the tributes from there are obviously strong and specially trained; typical Careers. That's sort of a relief, even if it doesn't make them any less deadly. At least she'll be able to predict what they'll do.

Still, she's intimidated, just by seeing them on the screen. She can't imagine what it'll be like in person.

_Calm down_, she tells herself. _You've got special training too. You can handle this. _

Everyone else looks pretty normal, too. The only one who really sticks out to her is the boy from Nine. His name's Barric Ember, and he is probably the most handsome boy Dahlia has ever seen. She's ashamed to admit that, though, even to herself.

He's dressed in a course, hand-sewn, wheat-colored shirt and slacks. His hair is golden and shines in the sunlight as he climbs the steps, his amazing face emotionless. When the camera zooms in for a close up, Dahlia can see his pretty green eyes.

She tries to force these thoughts from her head. She can't be vulnerable, and having a crush on someone is the definition of vulnerable. She can't do it. This is the freaking _Hunger Games_, for crying out loud.

It's just attraction anyway. She has to actually know the guy before she can have a real crush on him. Once they get to the Capitol, she decides, she's going to make sure he doesn't even know she exists.

She hears Toni murmur, "Well, that boy'll definitely get sponsors."

Chaff laughs. "You got that right!" He downs the drink in his hand.

Dahlia frowns, feeling vaguely uncomfortable. Chaff's voice is already a little slurred.

She notices Adair frowning too, but only has a second to wonder if he could possibly be thinking the same thing she is before he asks, "But we will, too, right?"

Ok. So he wasn't, then. Toni immediately cries, "Of course you will!"

Seeder doesn't answer at all, but Chaff turns and studies Adair closely, then turns and studies Dahlia. "Maybe," he says seriously. "You look good enough, I guess. With a stylist's magic, you'll look even better."

Adair frowns. "But it's not a fashion show. Why's it matter how we look?"

Dahlia groans. Gods, how dumb can you get? Chaff, Seeder, and Toni all laugh aloud, but Dahlia answers before any of them can. "Not a fashion show? Well, no, it's not- not after the first week, anyway- but have you been paying attention at all? What about the interviews, or the opening ceremony? You think that doesn't count as a sort of fashion show?"

Adair frowns, while Chaff grins and nods at her. "Oh," her fellow tribute mutters.

"Yeah," Dahlia grumbles. "Oh." Adair sticks his tongue out at her, and she rolls her eyes.

Chaff watches this exchange with increasing amusement, and even Seeder is hiding a smile. Only Toni doesn't seem to care.

This is made even more evident when she stands up with her bright, empty smile, and chirps, "Time for dinner!" then bounds from the room.

The mentors and the tributes all look at each other, shrug, and follow after her. Dahlia finds herself wishing Mica and Diamond were here. She's surrounded by a bunch of people she barely knows (or doesn't know at all, in some cases), she's about to become a player the world's worst reality TV show, and she's scared. Millions of people are soon going to be watching her every move. Heck, they've already started, in a way. All those people who won't care if she dies, who think of her as just a toy, not real. And they hold her fate in their hands.

Everyone knows sponsors are a huge part of survival in the Hunger Games. If you don't have sponsors, you're as good as dead.

Of course, Dahlia figures she'll have no problem surviving, if she can get past the bloodbath. She's Demeter's child, after all. She was born for that sort of thing.

The problem is she doesn't know what the arena will be like. It could be anything from a desert to an ocean. You just never know.

She's busy mulling over this when she steps into the dining room and...whoa. She's never smelled anything more amazing in her entire life.

They sit down, and eat. The food tastes even better than it smells.

Part of that could be because she's been living off berries and things like that for the past month or so. It's been a really long time since she's had a meal- a real one, anyway. But she's certain that even the food at camp isn't this good.

Adair seems to agree with her. His eyes widen when he gets the first taste, and he places his fork aside and just eats with his hands. Dahlia has more reserve, but she understands the urge. Toni doesn't, though. She wrinkles her nose and mumbles something under her breath. Dahlia thinks she catches the word "savages" and has to grip the table hard to keep herself from strangling Toni. Seeder frowns, but it's with sympathy, not disgust. Even Chaff looks more subdued than usual.

For the first time, Dahlia notices how thin Adair is. His lips are chapped, and he looks a little paler than she remembers. She frowns. What happened to him the past two years to make him look like this?

Suddenly, Dahlia realizes she must look too healthy to be from District Eleven. Even though she's been on a quest the past little while, she's still been eating better than the majority of people in her home district. That worries her, but it's not like she can do anything about it.

So she just frowns and shoves a spoonful of delicious mashed potatoes into her mouth. Chaff calls for more alcohol, pours himself a glass when it comes, and downs the drink in one big gulp. Then he just refills the glass. Pretty soon he'll be drunk out of his mind. Dahlia tries not to feel nervous.

That night, Dahlia has dreams, of course.

She's walking through a thick forest. Drops of water slide down the leaves, dripping to the ground or, in bouts of occasional bad luck, onto Dahlia's head. It must've just rained.

She's all alone, just wandering aimlessly. Then she pushes through a particularly thick section of underbrush and finds herself in a clearing. The sudden sunlight blinds her for a moment, and she blinks rapidly, trying to clear the spots from her eyes. When she can see again, she discovers there are two people in the clearing with her, and immediately takes a step back, panicked. But they don't seem to notice her. She frowns and steps forward again, studying them with narrowed eyes.

And gasps. It's Mica and Diamond. Diamond's hair is dirty and wet and hangs in limp blonde strands around her head. Her orange camp t-shirt is ripped and smeared with mud, her jeans not much better. But her stormy gray eyes shine with that fierce, determined light Dahlia's grown accustomed to.

Mica's expression is more of hopelessness. His blondish-brown hair is wet, too, but pushed out of his face. His camp t-shirt is torn in a bunch of places, and blood peeks through the tear on his shoulder.

They're talking, but whispering, like they're afraid to be heard. Dahlia inches closer, unafraid now. If they didn't notice her before, they won't now.

"Are you insane?" Mica hisses. "We can't go there. Too dangerous. There's...there's nothing we can do for her now."

A shiver shoots down Dahlia's spine. She gets the feeling Mica's talking about her.

Diamond shakes her head fiercely. "We're not leaving her," she insists. "Dahlia wouldn't leave us, why should we leave her?"

"Diamond. You heard the prophecy. _The third, despair, for terrible fate_."

"So?" Diamond demands.

"So we can't do anything."

"Who says? What if the terrible fate is just getting in the Hunger Games in the first place? We can save her!"

"How?" Mica looks pained. It's weird listening to this, like the two have switched roles. For once, Mica is being the logical one. But he obviously doesn't want to be.  
He continues, "Are we supposed to break in the arena somehow, take her back? You know there's no way we can manage that."

Diamond shakes her head. "You're the one who always says you can break into anything. And, anyway, I was thinking more like we should save her _before _she gets to the arena."

"It's not possible, Diamond. You know that."

Diamond's eyes are teary. "We have to save her," she whispers. "We can't just let her _die_."

"She has a chance. Maybe she won't die," Mica offers.

"Would that be any better?" Diamond demands. "No. Because then she'll be famous. She'll be a victor. She'll have to train other kids, send them to their deaths, and we'll never see her again. She won't be able to come back to camp. Not ever again."

"At least she'll be alive," Mica murmurs.

A few tears leak out of Diamond's eyes. "Yeah, but...but..."

"Look, we can go to the Capitol," Mica says. "We'll get there as fast as we can. Maybe we can see her."

Diamond frowns. Then she whispers, "Ok."

Mica frowns too. He takes her hand and squeezes it once. "Hey, it'll be ok." He's an excellent liar, but Dahlia can see he doesn't really believe it. There's something there in his dark blue eyes... Fear. This shocks her. Mica's afraid? And there's pain there too, as if he's already mourning her loss.

And that's when Dahlia decides she has to win this thing. If Mica looks this bad now, she can only imagine what he'll be like when she is actually...actually dead.

* * *

_**A/N: K, so pretty bad ending, but I hope you're ok with it. Tell me, please. I don't want to be an author who gets down on her hands and knees and begs for reviews, but seriously, review. Please, please review. See you next time.**_


	11. Chapter 11

_**Disclaimer: I don't own The Hunger Games, Percy Jackson and the Olympians or Heroes of Olympus. They belong to their respective owners: Suzanne Collins and Rick Riordan.**_

* * *

Chapter Eleven

Dahlia wakes up, unsure where she is for a moment. Then her breathing hitches as the memories come rushing back. Yesterday, the reaping, all her worst nightmares come true. She wants to close her eyes again and go back to sleep. Even the nightmares she knows she'll have can't possibly be worse than this.

But she forces herself to get out of bed. She searches the chest of drawers and finds jeans and a strawberry red t-shirt, which she pulls on as quickly as possible. Then she glances at the clock- 8:00- and rushes out into the hall.

When she gets to the kitchen, everyone else is already there. Except Adair. Dahlia doesn't have a problem with that. At least she can avoid a boatload of teasing about being late. She sits down across from Seeder, Chaff and Toni.

"Hey," Chaff slurs, grinning sloppily at Dahlia. There's a glass in his hand, full to the brim with alcohol. Dahlia tries not to wrinkle her nose.

"Hello," she says politely. She looks at Toni. "So are we getting to the Capitol today?"

Toni looks up with a smile that actually has substance for once, while Seeder and Chaff lean forward, interested. "Yes," Toni says. "Oh, it's _beautiful_. You'll love it there, Delia, I promise."

Chaff snorts, but whether it's at the prospect of the Capitol being lovable, Toni's name flub, or just because he felt like it, Dahlia can't tell.

"It's Dahlia," Dahlia corrects.

Toni shrugs. "Whatever. Soon enough it won't matter either way."

Dahlia grits her teeth. "Right."

Seeder studies her. Chaff does too, but it's with that sloppy grin still. Dahlia can tell he's only half there. He chugs a little of his drink, then shoves a forkful of eggs in his mouth.

"You seem anxious to arrive," Seeder comments, still studying Dahlia carefully.

Dahlia shrugs. "Might as well get it over with," she says, trying and failing to sound nonchalant. Her voice trembles, but she holds down the tears that threaten to come.

Seeder, Chaff, and even Toni frowns. Seeder reaches across the table and covers Dahlia's hand with her own. "Dah-"

She's cut off by a loud _Crash!_ from the hall. Dahlia jumps with everyone else.

"Adair?" Toni yells. Dahlia thinks bitterly, _Oh, so she can remember his name, but not mine? What's with that?_

Adair walks into the room, looking sheepish. His hair's a mess, and his obviously brand new green shirt already has a rip in it. "Yeah," he says. "It's me."

"What _happened _to you?" Toni demands, jumping up and rushing over. Dahlia can't help but snicker, and she catches Adair shooting a glare at her.

Dahlia sees the determined light in Toni's eyes. She's not doing this because she cares- she just wants to teach him manners. Yesterday's food thing must've really got to her.

So he's her little project. Well, that's hilarious, but it could be bad too. Toni might try to make all the sponsors go for Adair and not Dahlia, if she grows an attachment, anyway. Now that Dahlia thinks about it, though, there's a large chance they'll do that anyway. Adair's a good-looking guy- though not near as much as Barric Ember- and Dahlia is pretty average. All demigods are fairly attractive, of course, except maybe Hephaestus kids, but Dahlia's exactly that and nothing more. She's not an Aphrodite kid by anyone's standards.

Of course, Adair isn't either, but still.

While Dahlia glares at her eggs, Toni gets Adair straightened up, ordering him to go back to his room and change shirts. Once he's gone, she goes out into the hall, sees a broken vase, and gets one of the staff to clean up the mess. Pretty soon Adair is seated (at the head of the table, like he's so special), and digging into his eggs, with occasional reprimands from Toni: "Use your fork, Adair," "You see that white cloth next to the plate, sweetheart? That's called a _napkin_. It's there for a reason" (this one earns her a glare), and "No, no. Sit up straighter, and hold the fork like _this._" She demonstrates. Then, "There, see? Much better."

Adair is obviously not enjoying it, but Dahlia is fighting laughter, Chaff is chuckling under his breath, and even Seeder is suppressing a smile. He glares at all of them murderously, and Toni scolds him for that, too, and that's when Dahlia loses it. She bursts into a round of laughter, along with Chaff, who is now guffawing loudly.

Finally, Adair grabs the last bit of food off his plate and stuffs it in his mouth, in total defiance of Toni. Then he grins at her, his mouth still full of eggs. And, without another word, he gets up and glides from the room, on his cloud of confidence again. Dahlia stopped laughing a few minutes before, but at this she giggles. Toni's expression is priceless. But Dahlia still sees that determined gleam in her eyes. Toni and Adair have some very rough times ahead of them.

_And then manners won't matter anymore, because we'll both probably be dead._ Dahlia tries to shake that thought away as she gets up slowly and leaves the room.

Absently wandering the halls, she thinks about her dream, Diamond's theory that the "terrible fate" the prophecy talked about might just be getting into the Hunger Games itself. Dahlia doesn't think so.

It's not usually a good idea to disagree with an Athena kid. They're generally right, after all. But Diamond is freaking out. Her judgment has to be impaired. She's just desperate to get her friend out. They've been friends since the moment Dahlia stumbled across the camp border, two years ago. And being the only Athena kid in the entire camp, Diamond was always just someone to respect, and maybe even fear. She didn't have many friends, and the only _close _friend she had was Dahlia.

So Dahlia can see why'd she'd be desperate to get her back. But Mica's right, for once. It'd be pretty much impossible.

Dahlia takes a deep breath. She starts to tell herself that the dream might not even be real... but then she remembers the Hunger Games dreams, and how she ignored them. Look where that got her. So she can't ignore this. It has to be real.

Not that that fact helps her much. All it tells her is that Diamond and Mica are racing for the Capitol, Diamond with the wild hope that they might be able to save her, and that they'll probably witness all the mistakes she's sure to make over the next few days. And then, once she gets to the arena, they'll get to watch her die in some cruel way only the Games would allow.

_Don't think like that_, she scolds herself. _There's a chance you could win. _And then she remembers Diamond's view on that, and wonders if she might be right. Would it really be better to be a victor, sending kids off to die every year afterward, and having no way to help them? And she wouldn't be able to leave, either. She'd be in the limelight constantly if she won, stuck in the Victors' Village with no way to see her friends at camp without tipping the Capitol off to the existence of demigods.

Maybe it would be better if she died.

_No. No, Dahlia. Don't think about that. After all, you're not even _in _the Games yet. And you're already worrying about them. Just focus on the present for now. _

Dahlia knows that's not really true. She _is _in the Games. They started the moment her name was pulled out of that reaping ball. Everything she's done since then is being taken into account by her possible sponsors. They're already beginning to decide who to sponsor, and they've only seen the reaping.

The Games may not have _officially_ started, she may not be running for her life or hiding in shadows, but she's already in the Games. The most important part, actually. And she's already messed up enough.

She runs her fingers through her hair and stops in front of a full-length mirror hanging randomly in the hallway. She stares dully at her reflection, and wonders vaguely why it's all watery. Then she touches her cheek and finds it wet. She's crying. She's been doing that a lot lately.

She lets out a shaky breath and wipes her eyes. The reflection clears up. She studies herself dully. Her golden-blonde hair, like wheat shining in the sunlight, is tangled and a little messy. Her eyes are red from crying, and her face is streaked with tears. But her t-shirt and jeans are still fine.

She needs to get cleaned up. She turns abruptly and heads for her room, where she grabs a brush and yanks it through her hair, wincing as it catches on the tangles. After she's done, she twists her hair up into a high ponytail and ties it off with the rubber band around her wrist. Then she goes into the bathroom, wets a towel, and rubs it over her face. Then she stares at herself in the mirror. Her eyes are still a little red, but she looks much better than before.

She runs back outside and almost crashes into Adair on the way to the living room, but manages to slam to a stop just in time and step aside. For a few seconds, they just stare at each other. Then Adair's familiar sarcastic smirk spreads over his face. "Hey."

"Hi, Adair," Dahlia says, a bit annoyed. Why'd she have to almost run into him, of all people? "What do you want?"

Adair's smirk grows more pronounced. "What, I'm not allowed to talk to you? We're both tributes, after all."

"Yes." Dahlia's voice drops to a whisper. "And tributes are enemies."

Adair steps forward, pivoting on his heel, so he's standing right next to her, facing the same way she is. He tosses his arm around her. "I dunno, sweetie. Maybe we they don't have to be." His mouth is right next to her ear.

She jerks away from him. "Don't touch me."

Adair sighs. "Why do you hate me so much?"

"I don't _hate _you, exactly," Dahlia says thoughtfully. "Just strongly dislike."

Adair rolls his eyes. "Right. Well, then why do you dislike me?"

Dahlia takes another step away from him, then looks over and raises her eyebrows. "Well, you pulling stunts like _that _on me doesn't help, you know."

Adair shrugs. "Yeah, and?"

Dahlia doesn't feel like having this conversation. "Can we just go? The others are probably waiting for us."

"They can wait a little longer. Now, answer the question."

Dahlia sighs. "Why do you _care_?"

Adair hesitates a moment. "I just do, ok? Now answer. The longer you stall, the longer you'll be stuck here."

"Fine," Dahlia snaps. If he really wants to know, then she'll let him know. And he'll probably regret asking.

Adair looks excited for some unfathomable reason. He puts his hand on Dahlia's arm, taking a step toward her to do so.

Dahlia lets out a breath and stares forward. "You were a menace," she begins, voice flat. "You and your friends were always haggling me and mine. You'd tease me, and put me down, and make me feel like a freak." At this, she grins. Turns out she _is_ a freak. But she's rather proud of that fact now. Being a half-blood isn't always fun, but she's still proud she is one. At least she knows who she is now. Dahlia Okelley, daughter of Demeter.

"Oh." Adair sounds indifferent. "Yeah, I kinda did, didn't I?"

"You don't even _care_," Dahlia hisses. "Why'd you even _ask _me if you don't care?"

Adair shrugs. "I've always been curious. And"- he winks at her- "it distracted you."

"What does that have-" Suddenly Adair's lips are on hers, and she's staring at his closed eyelids, and for a moment she's so shocked that all she can do is stand there, frozen. Then she pulls away, suddenly angry. "What'd you do that for?!"

Adair opens his eyes and grins mischievously at her. "Do what?"

"Adair Labelle, I swear if you ever do that again, I will-"

He laughs. "Yeah, I know. Now come on." Then he turns and walks away, in the direction of the living room.

For a moment, Dahlia just stands there, fuming. Who does that guy think he is, just kissing her like that? She kicks the leg of a small table near her, so hard that it goes crashing to the floor and the vase and glass box on it shatter. Dahlia stares at the mess for a few moments, then turns on her heel and marches toward the living room.

When she walks in, everyone except Adair look at her curiously. Adair's just smirking at her, as usual, only this time she doesn't grace him with a look.

"What was that noise?" Toni asks.

Dahlia shrugs. "Knocked over a table in the hall by accident. No biggy."

Toni groans. She mutters something about stupid district kids and their clumsy habits. Dahlia wants to laugh and smack her at the same time. Punch her, just 'cause she's mad and she needs to let her anger out on _someone_ (preferably Adair), and laugh, because she seriously doubts Capitol kids are any better, especially with all their weird implants. Chances are, they're _more_ likely to knock things down.

"Did you call the maids?" Toni asks, annoyed.

"No."

And Toni groans again. Dahlia just shrugs. "They'll find it eventually."

"That's not the _point_." Toni's irritation just makes her weird accent sound even weirder, because her voice gets higher and higher with each word. She looks around. "I'll be right back." By the word "back", her voice is practically a squeak.

She gets up and leaves the room. The second she's gone, Dahlia walks over to Adair and punches him in the jaw. His head flies to one side, and he spits on the lush carpet. Then he turns his head back toward her, rubbing his jaw and glaring, the smirk completely gone. "What was that for?"

"I hate you," Dahlia hisses.

She hears the squeak of springs behind her as either Chaff or Seeder gets up, and she can feel two pairs of eyes boring into her back, but at the moment, she doesn't care.

Adair's smirk is back. "So I've been promoted to 'hate' now? C'mon, Dahli, you know you _liked_ it."

Dahlia's fist clenches. "In your dreams, Labelle."

She hasn't had time to consider that, anyway. She's so mad right now that even if she did like it, she wouldn't care. Adair's stupid confident smirk widens- Dahlia just wants to smack it right off his stupid face- and he starts to lean toward her.

Her hand connects with his jaw, a loud _SMACK!_ ringing out at the impact. Adair's head whips to the side again, and he steps back, almost stumbles, probably just an unconscious move, since there's no way the force of her hit could've caused that. He cries out softly, his hand flying to his cheek. "Dang, Dahli, when'd you get so strong?"

Seeder's voice, right behind Dahlia, asks, "What's this all about?" She sounds calm, and that makes Dahlia mad, even though she really has no reason to be. She whirls around and glares at the victor, then back at Adair. She feels surrounded, defeated, but still angry.

Adair pipes up, and Dahlia can hear the stupid smirk in his voice, in the way it overflows with snobby confidence: "She's mad 'cause I kissed her in the hallway."

Chaff's booming laugh starts up, and as Dahlia wheels back again to glare at Adair, she hears the squeal of the springs, telling her he's gotten up too.

"You did, did you?" Chaff guffaws before she can slap Adair again (though she does notice that he shrinks back from her a little, and she smiles). She feels a strong hand on her arm and finds herself wheeled around to face Chaff. He releases her arm and puts his hand under her chin, tilting her head up so he can look into her eyes. His roam all over her face, then he releases her chin and steps back, running his eyes up and down her body. Dahlia glares and crosses her arms over her chest.

Finally, Chaff nods. He glances at Adair and gives him a nod. "Not bad." As if Dahlia is just an object, no more important than that table she knocked over. She glares harder.

Adair gives a laugh, and Dahlia could swear there's a note of nervousness in it. "Thanks," he says. When he looks at Dahlia, though, she can see the apology in his eyes. She ignores him.

Behind her, Seeder huffs, obviously annoyed. "Chaff."

Chaff glances at her. He just grins and shrugs. "Sorry." He doesn't sound sorry, or look it.

"Right." Seeder gives Adair a withering look, then she says, "Now, let's all sit down."

And they do, in such a way that makes their alliances obvious. Adair and Dahlia sit on opposite sides of the room, the latter studiously ignoring all of the former's attempts at reconciliation. Seeder and Chaff both sit on the couch, at opposite ends, Seeder nearer to Dahlia, Chaff nearer to Adair. But they aren't as hostile. Seeder and Chaff exchange a knowing smile, watching their tributes. The implication makes Dahlia angrier. Do they honestly think she could've fallen for that...that menace? No. No way. Never. She crosses her arms and glares at the darkened screen.

This is how Toni finds them when she returns.

* * *

_**A/N: Hey, everyone! I'm back, with a 3,116 word chapter in tow. How cool is that? **_

_**And just in case anyone asks, I'll address the kissing thing here. I'm not planning on making anything much of it. So don't start shipping Adia (or whatever their couple name would be). I think the whole star-crossed lovers thing was portrayed pretty well in the original book, and I'm not planning on doing a repeat.  
**_

_**And with that, good-bye! See ya next time!  
**_


	12. Chapter 12

_**Disclaimer: I don't own The Hunger Games, Percy Jackson and the Olympians or Heroes of Olympus. They belong to their respective owners: Suzanne Collins and Rick Riordan.**_

* * *

Chapter Twelve

Later that afternoon, they arrive in the Capitol. Dahlia's still ignoring Adair, but he's gotten bolder, going over and putting his arm around her and whispering apologies in her ear. She's been pretending he's not even there, not reacting an any way. But she doesn't want to be this near him, so she's glad when she has an excuse to get up.

Toni squeaks excitedly, "We're here!" and Dahlia immediately jumps to her feet and races to the window.

She gasps at the sight, and her eyes widen. The Capitol is beautiful, absolutely stunning. It looks nothing like camp or the wilderness or District Eleven- nothing like anything Dahlia's seen before. She leans forward and presses her palms against the glass, peering out at the shimmering buildings and strange people, who notice her and wave. She's too distracted to wave back. "It's beautiful," she breathes.

She hears someone come up next to her, then a gasp. "Ohh," Adair's voice says, right next to her. "You've got that right, Dahli."

Dahlia doesn't answer. She hears Toni's soft laughter behind her, and footsteps coming up behind her and Adair. "Told you you'd love it," Toni says simply.

Dahlia nods, removing her hands from the glass. She hears Chaff's snort, but Adair nods too. Dahlia flashes the citizens a smile and a wave, then turns around to face Toni. "Well, you were definitely right. It's gorgeous."

"You should see it at night."

Dahlia grins and nods.

Springs creak, and Dahlia's eyes dart back to the couch, where Chaff is getting up. He turns to face them, his expression annoyed. "Yeah, yeah," he says irritably, glaring over at them and downing a glass of wine. Once that's done, he continues, "It's amazing. Can we get back to business?" He sets his glass on the table behind the couch and pours in some wine from the bottle, keeping his eyes on the dark liquid as it swirls down into the glass. Even if Dahlia doesn't approve of alcohol, she has to admit that the wine has a sort of grace to it as it enters the glass. It splashes and swirls, like a reddish-purple river, and then fades into stillness, a reflective lake. She looks away when Chaff grabs the glass and brings it to his lips, though. There is nothing beautiful about that.

Toni shrugs. "If you want to."

Chaff flops down on the couch again and pulls of his sloppily tied tie with his only hand. The other dark brown arm just hangs at his side, ending in a stub. Dahlia tries not to shiver. She wonders how that happened, then decides maybe she doesn't want to know. "Shouldn't'a put the stupid thing on in the first place," Chaff mumbles. He grabs his glass again and takes a long swig. His eyes are glazed over.

Chaff just wanted to get them to shut up about the Capitol. At least, that's what Dahlia has to assume, since he doesn't start on whatever "business" he was referring to. _Or maybe it's just the stupid wine_, she thinks bitterly, watching as he swishes the dark liquid around in its sparkling glass, his eyes locked on it.

One of her mentors is an alcoholic. And _neither_ of her mentors have made any kind of attempt at mentoring. This makes her angry (something that's not very hard to do, since Adair's kiss). Suddenly, she feels like knocking the glass out of Chaff's hand, slapping him, and demanding that he _do h__is freaking job_. But she's not strong enough (or brave enough) to do that. Besides, she knows the dangers of a drunk person, thanks to Dionysus's kids back at camp. No need to provoke Chaff if she doesn't have to.

She feels a hand on her shoulder and jolts out of her thoughts, whirling toward the person and _almost _slapping them. But Adair jumps back just in time. _Adair._ She curses under her breath and glares, clenching her fists.

Adair gives her a smirk, but Dahlia can see the nervousness beneath it. "Sorry, sweetheart."

Dahlia takes a deep breath. _Calm down_, she commands herself. _You have more imp__ortant things to worry about than Adair Labelle._ "Whatever," she says. "Let's just go."

She loosens her fists and turns away. She leaves, and everyone else follows her, Seeder gripping Chaff's arm firmly, an attempt to keep him from stumbling. It doesn't work.

* * *

A little while later, Dahlia finds herself naked, with only a flimsy robe for covering, on a platform with a bunch of strange-looking people studying her.

Their names are Aelia, Antonius, and Alba, and they are by far the weirdest group of people Dahlia has ever seen. Weirder even than the Capitol kids back at camp. Those were only _kids_, after all. They'd had less time to completely ruin their bodies.

Aelia has bright red-orange curls, like tongues of flame, and snow-white skin. Her eyes are wider than should be possible, and a dark, pretty, but unnatural violet color. She's dressed in a simple white dress, the exact same shade as her skin, and white flats, so she sort of fades into the background, like a ghost. Except for her hair and eyes. They command your attention. They're the things your eyes are immediately drawn to. Dahlia realizes that must be the point.

Antonius took the opposite approach. Your eyes want to go to pretty much everything on him at the same time, so that it's almost sensory overload. He has pitch black skin (but whether this is natural or not, Dahlia has no way of knowing), bright red eyes, and _green_ hair. He's dressed in tight pink, blue and yellow striped pants and a baby blue dress shirt. Dahlia can only manage to look at him for a few seconds at a time before she has to look away. And she can't meet his eyes. They're red, after all, just like so many monsters she's faced. She's sure that if she looks Antonius in the eye, she'll have a panic attack, maybe start crying.

Alba looks the most normal of the trio, but still not very. Her eyes a natural-looking green, but her hair is the color of a light bulb's filament, so bright it almost hurts to look at. It's long and wavy and cuts off abruptly at her knees. It's got red streaks in it, like an attempt to tone down the glare, but it hardly works. Her skin looks natural enough, deeply tanned, like she spends a lot of time in the sun (or, more likely, in the Capitol's tanning booths). She's wearing ripped white pants and a loose-fitting, cowl-neck top made of some silvery fabric that looks incredibly smooth (not that Dahlia's gonna ask).

All of them look strange to Dahlia. But normal is a relative term. To the people of the Capitol, this is normal, and people like Dahlia, people from the districts, are exceedingly abnormal. It's hard for Dahlia to wrap her head around that fact.

Her prep team is chattering happily. Antonius orders her to remove the robe and she reluctantly obeys. They get right to work, scrubbing her down, filing her nails, stripping hair from everywhere except her head, yanking her hair out of its ponytail and washing it, and then washing it again. And again.

Alba wrinkles her nose as she pours water over Dahlia's head. "How long's it been since you had a bath?" she asks in an accusing tone.

That gets on Dahlia's nerves. As a matter of fact, she took a shower last night. Do they expect her to take one every two hours, or something? She doesn't answer.

By the time the prep team's done, every inch of Dahlia's skin is stinging. Her finger- and toenails are perfect little ovals, her hair is sparkly clean. Her entire body is so clean it almost hurts (or, in some cases, actually does hurt). So this is what it's like to be "squeaky clean"... Dahlia isn't sure she likes it.

But she knows the worst isn't over yet. Pretty soon, her stylist will saunter through that door, and she'll be at his (or her) mercy. She pulls on her robe, ignoring Antonius, who's saying, "You might as well leave it off. You'll just have to take it off again when Tarquin gets here."

The only thing she retains from that is "Tarquin". It must be the stylist's name.

A few minutes later, this is confirmed by a man coming in and introducing himself. "Hello. My name is Tarquin. I'm your stylist." He says it rather gruffly, but at least he's being straightforward, unlike Antonius, Alba, and Aelia had been. It'd taken Dahlia three or four tries before they finally told her their names.

The prep team scurries out of the room. Tarquin crosses over to Dahlia.

He looks Asian, with the dark, almond-shaped eyes, yellow-ish complexion, and dark hair. But everything about him is blown out of proportion. His skin is too yellow, like he has jaundice. His eyes are black, no depth to them at all. Dahlia can't tell his iris from his pupil. His hair is so black it's almost purple. There are symbols tattooed on his face, arms, hands, legs and feet. They look like the symbols Dahlia's seen in some of the books in the Athena cabin, old Asian languages, but she can't tell which one these are.

One thing she_ can_ tell, though, is that Tarquin is very proud of his heritage. Either that or he's trying to make fun of it. Dahlia hopes it's the first option.

Tarquin orders Dahlia to take off the robe, just as Antonius told her he would. She's not comfortable with this at all, but it's not like she has much choice. She takes off the robe and clutches it tightly in her right fist. Tarquin starts circling her, taking in every inch of her. It's obvious he's thinking hard, but not about the same thing someone like Adair or Chaff would be thinking about right now. She's thankful for that.

Finally, Tarquin nods. "You can put the robe back on," he says. She does so as fast as she can, and doesn't miss his soft chuckle.

"Wait here." He leaves. Dahlia hears voices out in the hall, then silence. Then, five minutes later, Tarquin and the prep team return, each carrying two large buckets, one in each hand. Dahlia cranes her neck, and she can see that the buckets hold...dirt. Wait, what?

Tarquin orders her to take off the robe before she can ask about that. Then he tells her to close her eyes. She does, but before any of them can do anything, she asks, "What are you doing? What's with the dirt?"

She hears a disapproving _tsk_, and Aelia's voice says, "It's a surprise, honey. I just love surprises. Don't you?"

Dahlia bites her tongue. In this case? No, she doesn't like surprises. But she doesn't say anything.

Aelia apparently takes her silence as confirmation. "Wonderful!" she enthuses. Then something cold and sticky hits Dahlia's arm, and she flinches away, her eyes flying open. She forces them back closed. What is that? She tries to reach over to touch her arm with her other hand, but someone slaps her hand away. "Stay still!" Antonius snaps. "We have to get all this on before it dries."

Dahlia almost wants to laugh. Her, staying still? She's ADHD, like most demigods. Her staying still is an impossible dream, but she tries her best.

Then she realizes something else. _Before what dries? _A cold feeling of dread settles in her stomach as she puts it all together. The cold, the stickiness, Antonius's use of the word "dries"... They're putting glue on her.

She wants to open her eyes and run far, far away, but she can't. Based on the sound of their footsteps, there are people all around her, and the wet, cold stickiness is already covering all of her arm and most of her leg. So she just panics on the inside, trying desperately to stay still. Why are they putting glue on her? She wants to know, but she's not sure she wants to ask. She might not like the answer, they might not even answer her. So she just stays silent.

Minutes or hours later (Dahlia just knows that she can barely stand being still by the time it's done), her entire body, even her face (they'd had to be very careful there), is covered in the sticky stuff, and they start with the dirt. She can feel the grains being patted into the glue, dirt being sprinkled over her head. For the millionth time she wonders what they're doing.

It's uncomfortable, even with the layer of glue protecting her. It reminds her of laying in the land at the beach back at camp, with grains of sand digging into her back and arms and legs, only now it's like she's buried. She's surrounded by grains, and she can't get away from it. She shifts, partly from discomfort, partly because she just _needs_ to move, and someone snaps at her to be still. Probably Antonius again, but she's too distracted to tell.

Someone else, probably Alba or Aelia, says, "Calm down, Antonius. She's been standing there for a long time. You'd get restless too." Antonius just grumbles something unintelligible in response.

Restless is the mild way of putting it. Dahlia _needs _to move, but she can't. She swears she'll explode if she can't move soon. To try to avoid that and also avoid Antonius's wrath, she wiggles her fingers and toes. It doesn't work, really. Antonius snaps at her to stop moving again, and the need to move doesn't go away. But she hasn't exploded yet. That's good.

Then again...if she just exploded right now, then she wouldn't have to go into the Hunger Games... But she'd hate to see what the obituary would be. _Would-be tribute Dahlia Okelley died tragically the day of the Tribute Parade, while being prepped to go in. She had been standing still too long and exploded as a result. Once all the pieces have been collected, we will ship them back to District Eleven._

It's a morbid thought, but Dahlia finds it strangely funny. She tries to hold down the laugh that bubbles up inside her and fails. She starts giggling uncontrollably, slowly gaining volume. Her prep team and stylist stop what they're doing, and she feels them staring at her.

Antonius mutters, "She's lost her mind."

Aelia asks, "Dahlia? Are you all right?"

Dahlia opens her eyes, still laughing. Between giggles, she gasps, "Yeah, I'm fine. Ignore me."

The four people in front of her look dubious, but they obey. Dahlia closes her eyes again. She manages to get her laughter under control.

A few hours later, she's ready to go in.

* * *

_**A/N: Here's another chapter for you guys. Hope you liked it. **_

_**By the way, I honestly don't know how to pronounce Tarquin's name. Is it "tar-qwin" or "tar-kin"? I've been saying "tar-qwin", but I'm not sure if that's right. So if anyone knows, please help me out. (And, yeah, I know it's kind of pathetic to not know how to pronounce your own character's name, but oh well.)  
**_

_**Anyway, review! I'll see you guys next time.  
**_


	13. Chapter 13

_**Disclaimer: I don't own The Hunger Games, Percy Jackson and the Olympians or Heroes of Olympus. They belong to their respective owners: Suzanne Collins and Rick Riordan.**_

* * *

Chapter Thirteen_**  
**_

Her outfit is a nightmare. There's a thick layer of dirt coating her from head to toe (yeah, even her face. That part took the longest, but there's no dirt in her eyes or nose or mouth, so that's a win if you ask Dahlia). There are berries and pieces of grass scattered all over her, and a few artfully placed leaves to provide her with a little (a very, very, _very_ little) modesty. Her blonde hair is piled atop her head in an elaborate bun, and twigs have been stuck in it, blades of grass woven through it, berries tied in on nearly invisible strings. She looks like a dirt monster. That's what she decides when she looks at herself in the mirror.

But Antonius, Alba, Aelia and Tarquin are all smiling. "You look amazing!" Alba screeches in pure joy.

"Uh-huh," Dahlia mutters. She's staring at herself, at her face. She's wearing brown lipstick and brown eyeshadow, and her eyes are naturally brown, so that works perfectly. The rest of her face is coated in dirt. So is her neck, and her ears. There's so much brown on her that from far away, she probably just looks like a blob of dirt with dots of green, purple, and red all over. Oh, and human eyes, right where they should be.

She remembers the intense cleaning she had earlier, how completely spotless she felt. Now she wonders what the point was. Why did they bother cleaning her up if they were just going to cover her in dirt? Now she's lost all of the earlier clean feeling. She feels more messy now than she's ever felt in her entire life. She's itchy all over, but she can't scratch. She wants to rub her arm, get the grainy feeling away, but she can't.

Tarquin sees the uncomfortable look on her face, and his face softens a little. His voice is a little less harsh than usual when he says, "It's only until the parade's over. Then you can get all that off of you."

Dahlia nods vaguely and turns away from the mirror.

The strange thing is she doesn't feel naked. Not really. The glue and dirt and other stuff all over her is so thick it could just be really, really itchy, skin-tight clothes.

Tarquin's face hardens again. "Let's go," he says.

Dahlia follows the prep team and Tarquin down to the... Dahlia isn't sure what to call it. The loading dock, maybe. As they walk, a sudden realization hits her, and she has to remind herself to keep walking.

She's not sure why she didn't remember it before. But... Adair is going to be there. He's going to be done up like her. _Oh gods._ Do the gods enjoy torturing her?

Then something even more horrifying occurs to her. Barric Ember will be there, too. She feels her face heat up, and she's suddenly glad for the dirt covering it. Now there's no question. The gods definitely love torturing her.

This is going to be terrible.

Dahlia takes a deep breath and walks faster. She forces herself to calm down, and scolds herself for thinking of Barric. She can't have a crush on someone. She already decided that. Who cares if he sees her like this? Definitely not Dahlia.

But Adair... She's going to have to stand right next to that creep, in a small chariot. And he'll have the same kind of getup as she will. She can only imagine what kind of things he might do in that situation.

Suddenly she's mad at Tarquin. Why couldn't he have come up with a _normal_ costume? Why did he have to decide to put her through such torture? Of course, he didn't know, but _still_. Surely there are other ways to represent District Eleven than this.

She crosses her arms and stomps into the loading dock ahead of her prep team and Tarquin. No one even looks at her. That's the good part, she supposes. Everyone's used to weird costumes for the Hunger Games' Tribute Parade. No one's gonna look at her twice. And, Dahlia suddenly realizes, when they actually get outside it'll be so dark she and Adair will pretty much disappear. It's like Tarquin is doing everything in his power to keep either of them from having a chance at winning the Games. Or maybe this'll get them noticed, somehow. Maybe being known as "Invisa-girl" could make a good impression on some sponsors.

_Yeah, right._ Dahlia makes her way over to District Eleven's chariot and just stands by it. Adair isn't here yet. She looks around the room, at the other tributes. Everyone looks either uncomfortable, or nervous, or both. Even the Careers, though Dahlia suspects that's mostly because their costumes are uncomfortable. They definitely look it.

Dahlia finds her eyes going to District Nine's chariot, only two in front of her own, of their own accord, and once they get there she can't seem to look away. Barric's stylist definitely knows what they're doing. They managed to incorporate the district's specialty, grain, while still showing off Barric. He's wearing a see-through, wheat-colored shirt and skin tight light brown pants. And no shoes. At least none that Dahlia can see, with two chariots in her way.

She forces her gaze away from Barric and stares hard at her chariot. _Get a hold of yourself, Dahlia! You can't fall for someone. Not _here_. Heck, you don't even _know _the guy! _

She's suddenly, fiercely glad that Barric hadn't noticed her staring.

She moves her gaze from the chariot to her dirt-covered feet, and scowls.

"Hey."

Dahlia jumps and looks up. She finds herself facing a dark brown mass in the shape of a person. She can see brown-painted lips (they put real makeup on him too?) and brown eyes, and nothing else, but she knows it must be Adair.

"Hi," she says miserably.

Adair gestures at himself. He's decorated like Dahlia, with the leaves and grass and berries. "Pretty crappy costume pick, right?"

"Yeah," Dahlia agrees. She glances toward the front of the line. "When we get out there, we're gonna disappear. What good is that?" She sounds bitter, angry at Adair and Tarquin and a bunch of other people. She wishes Mica and Diamond were here. She needs friends right now, not some guy who terrorized her in school and now suddenly thinks it's ok to be kissing her in the middle of hallways.

But, unfortunately, he's all she's got.

He shrugs. "None." He climbs up into the chariot. Dahlia stays on the ground.

Adair glances down at her. She can see the smirk on his face as his eyes travel up and down her body once, then meet her eyes. "You know, dirt almost suits you."

Dahlia rolls her eyes. "Gee, thanks. Was that supposed to be a compliment?"

"Not really."

"Good." Dahlia climbs up into the chariot and stands as far from Adair as she can manage in the small space.

He smirks over at her. "Nervous, are we?"

"I can still smack you. Let's see how cocky you are when you get beat up by a girl in front of all these other tributes." She leans in close to him. "If that won't mark you as weak, I don't know what will."

Adair glares at her. She notices how his eyes linger on her lips for a second before he meets her eyes. Then, abruptly, he turns away and glares forward. "Whatever."

Dahlia smirks and straightens up again.

A few minutes later, the ceremonies begin. The anthem is blasting. They let District One's chariot out. Dahlia takes a deep breath. One down, ten to go.

When she and Adair get let out into the night, they're both silent. The darkness swallows them. Dahlia glances up at the TV monitors and find she was right. The night, combined with the darkness of their costumes, renders them almost completely invisible. She glances up at the stands. People are frowning in confusion. Over the music, she manages to hear someone yell, "Where'd they go?"

And she realizes how much of a genius Tarquin is. Invisibility makes them mysterious. It gets them noticed. It makes them interesting. People were expecting to see them, cheer for a few seconds, then move on to bigger and more interesting things. But this captures their attention. They're trying to find them. Dahlia feels the smile stretch on her face, but she stays as still as she can.

Even when District Twelve's chariot rolls out- the standard getup, skimpy miner's uniforms- everyone's attention is focused on finding District Eleven's tributes. She manages to hear a few people yell, "I see them! There!" as they point wildly.

People strain to see, and Dahlia sees smiles stretching each face as they manage to. A bunch of people start chanting. At first it's just a few, then more and more join. Eventually the chant even changes from "Eleven!" to "Adair! Dahlia!"

Dahlia's smile is huge. This definitely got them noticed. She glances over and sees Adair smiling too. They lock eyes, and Dahlia forgets her anger for a moment. "It worked," she mutters. "This actually worked."

Adair nods, grinning, and they both turn forward.

* * *

_**A/N: Short chapter, with a lame ending, but I figured it'd be better to get this out there than wait and give you a longer chapter. I'll finish off the rest of the Tribute Parade in the next chapter. **_

_**Also, if there's anything wrong, tell me. Please. I want this to be as near to the books as I can get it.  
**_

_**Oh, and it'll be mentioned soon, but I'll just go ahead and tell you anyway. This is the 53rd Hunger Games.  
**_


	14. Chapter 14

_**Disclaimer: I don't own The Hunger Games, Percy Jackson and the Olympians or Heroes of Olympus. They belong to their respective owners: Suzanne Collins and Rick Riordan.**_

* * *

Chapter Fourteen

They roll into the City Circle, people still cheering all around them. The chariot lines up with the others, and Dahlia catches a few people shooting them dirty looks. A few other tributes just look surprised, like Dahlia is. She can't believe the "invisible" thing worked.

But it won't last long. She's sure of that. Being invisible doesn't give you much of a chance in the Hunger Games. Unless...well, if you can stay that way until all the other tributes are dead and gone, maybe it does. But Gamemakers have tricks to keep you from doing that.

But if you're invisible to the Gamemakers, too... Dahlia winces. She remembers her final goodbyes, her friends' advice. _Or you could take your tracker out. That way they can't find you to trick you. _She's thinking like Mica now. But maybe he's right. If she took the tracker out, she'd be invisible. For real.

It'd hurt a lot, though... Dahlia bites her lip. Then she shakes her head and looks up at the balcony. She can worry about that when she gets to the arena.

President Snow looks down at everyone, and even from this distance Dahlia can see a gleam in his eyes. He's still fairly young, she guesses, probably in his forties, his hair only just beginning to turn white. He's wearing a black suit, with a blood red rose pinned to his lapel. Something about him gives Dahlia the creeps, even from this far away. She shivers, but doesn't look away.

His eyes scan over all the tributes' faces, then flicker up to the crowd behind them. And he begins the welcome speech, which Dahlia pays little attention to. She doesn't look away, either. She just stares up at President Snow, pretending to listen to him. She's really fighting the urge to scratch (the glue all over her body is really, really uncomfortable now, and the leaves and berries on her hair tickle her scalp), and shifting around in the chariot. Out of the corner of her eye, she catches Adair's eyes on her. Then she feels his hand on her arm and flinches away, sure this is the move she's been waiting for. He just sighs and pulls his hand back.

Finally, they make the loop again and enter the Training Center. Toni, Seeder, Chaff, Tarquin, and some woman Dahlia's never seen before (presumably Adair's stylist) are waiting for them.

The woman has pink hair and a bright smile. She's dressed in the height of fashon- for the Capitol, anyway- which includes a pair of heels so high that Dahlia figures she must be at least seven or eight inches taller than she'd be without them, maybe even more.

At any rate, she towers over both Dahlia and Adair. She sticks her hand out to Dahlia. "Nice to meet you. I'm Decia."

"Hi," Dahlia replies, staring at the woman's hand, then at her own, which is covered with dirt, of course. Does she really want to touch that?

Then Dahlia shrugs. She grabs Decia's hand, shakes once, and then releases it. She leaves a small clump of dirt on the woman's palm and doesn't miss the disgusted look on her face. Decia quickly brushes the dirt off onto the floor, then rubs her hands together, getting off any stray pieces. Dahlia grins.

"You two stink," Chaff informs them when he steps closer. Dahlia steps back; he's so close she can smell the alcohol on his breath. She wrinkles her nose and says, "Well, you don't smell amazing, either, you know."

Chaff grunts and shrugs, like he couldn't care less. Dahlia doesn't like how close he's standing. She sees Adair frowning out of the corner of her eye.

There's a few seconds of awkward silence, then Toni chirps, "Let's go get you two cleaned up, then! I'm sure you can't wait."

Judging from her expression, she can't either. Dahlia wonders if they really do smell as terrible as everyone seems to think.

They take the elevator up to the eleventh floor, and Dahlia can't help being amazed. She's never ridden in an elevator before. She stares at the numbers above the door, slowly approaching their floor. She studies all the buttons with fascination, then the elevator itself. When they get out, she's a little disappointed.

The first thing Toni does is show Dahlia and Adair to their rooms- which are right next to each other- and then, without a word, spins around and marches out, closing the door behind her. Which leaves Dahlia alone in a dark room. She glances back the way she came and frowns. She left tracks. She runs into the bathroom and quickly sets up the shower.

She still hasn't gotten the hang of it. The water is searing hot, and two seconds after she steps under it, she gets covered in a thick, white, bubbly soap that stings in her eyes. Then she gets scrubbed, and scrubbed, and scrubbed. At least she got that part right.

When she finally gets out of the shower, the only vestiges of her costume are either down the drain or stuck in her hair. Her skin is completely clear, and it's tingling again. She feels raw and hot from all the scrubbing, and the scalding hot water. She's pretty sure she's steaming, but when she looks down, she realizes that's not true.

Air blasts her from all around, instantly drying her. She pads back into the bedroom, grabs some pajamas from the dresser, and pulls them on. She grabs the brush and carefully brushes out her hair, watching as the leaves and berries and twigs fall out. Then she tosses the brush onto the bed and jumps in, yawning. She's too tired to care about dinner, or anything else. It's been a long day, after all. She falls asleep quickly in the soft, warm bed's grasp.

But dreams come, as they always do. She can never seem to get away from them.

* * *

_**A/N: So... how was that? Tell me if I messed something up. Actually, just tell me what you thought about it. What did I do right? What did I do wrong? What parts were neither? Tell me in a review. Please. **_


	15. Chapter 15

_**Disclaimer: I don't own The Hunger Games, Percy Jackson and the Olympians or Heroes of Olympus. They belong to their respective owners: Suzanne Collins and Rick** **Riordan.**_

* * *

Chapter Fifteen

Dahlia jolts awake and sits up. She looks around wildly, her heart still racing from the dream. Then she sags back against the pillow and squeezes her eyes shut. She is not looking forward to today.

_First day of training_, she thinks. _Oh _joy_._

For a few minutes, she just lies there, staring at the ceiling. Then there's a knock on the door. Toni's voice yells, "Up, Delia! Breakfast time!" Then Dahlia hears footsteps going over to Adair's room.

Dahlia rolls her eyes. She's pretty sure Toni's messing up her name on purpose. There's no way she doesn't know it by now.

It reminds her a little of those stories Chiron told her, back at camp. Apparently, when Dionysus had been camp director, he'd done things like that with the campers' names. She remembers how shocked and relieved she'd been when she found that out. Shocked because she couldn't believe that Dionysus had ever been the camp director, and because she couldn't believe a god would do that. Relieved because she was glad that he wasn't the camp director anymore, and she didn't have to deal with that.

Dahlia drags herself out of bed and pulls on the outfit waiting at the foot of the bed. Then she trudges out into the hall and heads toward the dining room.

There's a huge buffet waiting for her, along with Chaff, Seeder, and two servants. Chaff and Seeder are already eating, and Chaff doesn't even look up when Dahlia comes in. Seeder, however, looks up and gives her a nervous little smile. Dahlia manages a smile in return. Then she smiles at the nearest servant and loads up a plate full of food. She sits down as far away from Chaff as she can. He doesn't notice. His head is nodding, lower and lower until it just falls into his plate. Normally, that'd be funny, but this is Chaff. He may crack jokes a lot, but he's still a little scary.

Dahlia carefully averts her eyes and picks up her spoon. As she shovels a bit of eggs into her mouth, she hears Seeder let out a sigh. She spares a glance at her, but before she can say anything, she's interrupted by a loud sound, like the chainsaws the the Hephaestus and Ares kids love so much (for different reasons, of course). She jumps and whirls and finds that it's only Chaff. _Oh._ Seeder chuckles, and Dahlia's cheeks turn pink. She turns back to her plate.

Adair and Toni come in a few minutes later. Toni has an annoyed look on her face. Adair is dressed in a green t-shirt and tan pants. His black hair is tousled and his brown eyes have dark circles under them. The eyes themselves are dull, without their usual sarcastic glimmer. He looks tired, plain and simple. Dahlia doubts he got a wink of sleep last night.

He barely glances at Chaff and just goes over to the buffet table. He loads a plate, then comes over and sits next to Dahlia without even an attempt at a sarcastic remark. Still, just the fact that he sat next to her at all tells Dahlia that the Adair she knows is still in there. She's almost happy he's not all there. At least she doesn't have to deal with all his jokes and apologies and sarcasm.

Toni is nowhere near tired. At least, she doesn't act like it. When she sees Chaff, her expression changes immediately from annoyed to enraged. She marches over to Chaff and smacks him on the back of his head, seemingly with all her strength.

Chaff jerks awake, lashing out with his hand-less arm, but Toni jumps back in time to avoid the hit. Dahlia nearly gasps. Since when are Capitol citizens that quick?

Chaff's eyes blink open, and they turn on Toni with a murderous glare. Dahlia can see the blind anger on his face, the slightly glazed look in his eyes. She knows he's been drinking. She also knows that Toni is in trouble.

Chaff gets to his feet. "Why'd you wake me up?" he slurs, still glaring.

"You are a mentor." Toni doesn't seem to be concerned. She just looks mad. "You need to do your job. Which does not include smashing your food and getting ketchup on your face."

Even Chaff seems shocked. He reaches up and touches his face, which actually does have ketchup on it. He wipes it off with a napkin. Then he sits and starts to reach for a bottle on the table.

Dahlia sees the anger flare in Toni's eyes at this, but the escort doesn't move to stop Chaff. She just stands there, obviously fuming, and watches as he picks up the bottle and tips the liquid into his mouth. Then she stalks around the table, grabs a plate, and loads it with food. She sits down opposite Dahlia and eats. Even in anger, she manages to use table manners.

* * *

Soon, they're ready to go. Dahlia feels nervous and jittery, and Adair's acting like himself again, though he still looks tired. He grins at Dahlia's nervous expression, and she glares right back at him.

He sighs and steps closer. "C'mon, Dahli, it was one little kiss. Can't you forgive me?"

Dahlia doesn't deign to answer, just follows Toni and the mentors out of the room. She hears Adair let out a long, exasperated breath, then footsteps following after her.

"You're overreacting," he mutters when he catches up to her and falls into step beside her.

"I disagree," she says flatly, keeping her eyes forward.

She catches him pout out of the corner of her eye. "Of course you'd say that," he grumbles.

Dahlia can think of lots of responses to that, but she doesn't say any of them. She and Adair walk the rest of the way in a tense silence (or at least it's tense to her).

They get down to the training room, where they are one of the first tributes there. The only other group is District One. Dahlia gulps. The dude is _huge_, and the girl's not much better. Both of them eye Adair and her like lions about to pounce on their next victim. Dahlia fights the shiver that threatens, and looks away.

Adair looks around the room curiously, his eyes landing on the District One monsters for a full five seconds. His eyes widen, then dart away. They lock on Dahlia's eyes.

"We're goners," he mutters.

_You're just figuring that out?_ Dahlia thinks. But she doesn't say that. Instead, she says, "You never know. Maybe we'll get lucky."

Adair looks doubtful, but he nods slowly. "Yeah, I guess. We can't lose hope just yet..."

"Yeah," Dahlia agrees.

Other tributes start arriving. A few minutes later all twenty-four are present and accounted for. Dahlia looks around at everyone. Most seem nervous or downright terrified. The Careers band together instantly, standing a little off to the side and scoping everyone else out. They're the only ones who don't seem to be trying to hide fear under a thin mask of confidence. They look truly confident and, standing together like that, in one big huddle, more than a little intimidating. The arrogance of people who know what they're going for and are sure they'll get it. Dahlia wonders if any of them are even the smallest bit scared. They know that only one of them will win, if it does end up being a Career who wins. If they're even a little worried, they hide it well.

One of them catches her looking at them, and one of his white-blond eyebrows raise as he bares his teeth. Like, _What are you looking at, little girl?_ It reminds Dahlia of every Ares kid she's ever faced, and that comforts her just a little. The Ares kids are brutal, murderous, and terrifying when they're angry, but she knows how to deal with them, after two years of living at camp. She stands up a little straighter, wanting to glare, but doesn't. She just looks away. She thinks she hears a low chuckle from the guy who raised his eyebrows, but over the babble, it's hard to tell.

She wonders if the Ares kid tactic will work here. With the Ares kids, the way to get them to respect you is by not backing down, not showing fear. That's Dahlia's experience, anyway. Hermes kids run away after they set pranks and Apollo kids stand back from a battle and shoot, so Ares kids don't like them. It's Dahlia's perception that they don't exactly hate Athena kids (or, in this case, kid). She figures it's kind of like the way the Romans and Greeks felt about one another centuries ago. The Ares kids seem to have a grudging respect for Diamond. They know she's not a coward...they just don't like the way she goes about not being a coward. All those plans and calculations and caution...they'd rather just dive right in. Of course, this is just part of the reason. Dahlia is sure that the bigger part of why Ares kids don't like Diamond is because Ares doesn't like Athena, and vice versa.

In the Hunger Games, weakness is bad. But something can come of it, too, Dahlia thinks. Being weak meant people thought you were too easy. They'd rather get rid of harder prey first, so their win would be assured. Dahlia bites her lip. She's not sure of anything. She'll have to gather more information before she can be... _Oh gods_, Dahlia thinks. _I sound like Diamond._

She smiles to herself. Maybe that's a good thing.

The trainer gathers all the tributes into a circle and explains the rules of the training room, then she lets them go. For a while, Dahlia just watches the other tributes and studies the different stations. Most of them are things she was taught at camp. She's fairly good at the majority of them.

She wanders over to the edible plants section almost unconsciously. Of course she doesn't need it. She's the daughter of the goddess of agriculture, for crying out loud. She knows plants like the back of her hand. But she wants to calm herself, and this is the best way to do it.

The trainer there looks happy to have someone to teach- the station is completely deserted- and he starts blabbing the second Dahlia comes up. Dahlia smiles at him.

When she asks if they could just skip the lesson and go straight to the test, he looks surprised, but he agrees. He starts pointing out different plants, asking her if they're edible or not, or whether or not they're poisonous, what they're called.

She doesn't even have to touch them, just look at them. She gets that familiar tingle in the pit of her stomach, and the answer pops into her head. She quickly wows the trainer. She knows more than even _he_ does. When they get through the first set, he stares at her. "How do you know all that?"

Dahlia shrugs. "I'm from Eleven." It's sort of a weak answer, if you ask Dahlia. She's pretty sure that Adair doesn't know all this stuff about plants, but the trainer nods.

"Ah, of course," he says.

And without further adieu, they launch into the second set.

Dahlia aces that, too, and she can barely keep the crazy smile from her face. The trainer, what's his name... Oh, yeah. Trek. Trek keeps looking for harder and harder things, but Dahlia passes them all with ease. Finally, the man just throws up his hands.

"That's all I've got, sweetheart," he says, his voice part awestruck, part apologetic, and just a little tiny bit frustrated. _He's just been beat by a fourteen-year-old_, Dahlia thinks, and has to fight a smile again. _Of course he'd be frustrated._

Trek continues, and now his voice has a disappointed ring to it. "You'll have to go to some other station now."

Dahlia smiles. "Thanks, Trek," she says and she really means it. A small smile flashes across his face. Dahlia turns and walks away.

She notices that same Career guy eying her from the knife-throwing station, across the room. Now she notices more than just the cruel curiosity in his green eyes and the white-blond eyebrows above them. She sees that his lips are pursed, as if he's concentrating hard. His hair is longer than she's ever seen on someone, falling to just below his shoulders. It's not the same color as his eyebrows, but a darker blond, about halfway between the white-blond of his eyebrows and Dahlia's own hair color. He's tall, but not especially bulky, she realizes. At least, he's nothing like the District One guy, who, only a few feet behind him, is hurling a knife at a target. It slams just to the right of the bull's-eye with incredible force. Dahlia shudders.

Her eyes meet the Career's, just for a second, then he turns away. She watches as he nudges the District One guy, then waves in her general direction. She can see his mouth moving, but she's way too far away to hear the words. She walks to a different station before the District One guy- she really needs to learn his name- can look over at her.

Why's that blond Career so interested in her, she wonders. She's not especially interesting, after all. Not when you look at her, anyway. Sure, she's interesting in other ways, but there's no way that guy can possibly know she's a half-blood.

Maybe he wants her for an ally. The ridiculous thought crosses Dahlia's mind for half a second, and she almost bursts out laughing. Yeah, right. A Career wants _her_ for an ally. That'll never happen.

But what else could it be? Maybe he saw the anger in her eyes, rather than the fear she was feigning, when he looked at her before? Maybe he saw how well she did with the plants just now, and thinks she could help them in other ways? She has a lot of theories, but no real idea.

All she knows is that she'll have to tread even more carefully from now on.

* * *

_**A/N: So, chapter fifteen. As always, please, please review. And thanks for the review I got on the last chapter, Fallen Maiar (did I spell that right?). I haven't been responding to you, and I feel like I should tell you that I appreciate you sticking with this story.**_

_**So... see you guys next time!  
**_


	16. Chapter 16

_**Disclaimer: I don't own The Hunger Games, Percy Jackson and the Olympians or Heroes of Olympus. They belong to their respective owners: Suzanne Collins and Rick Riordan.**_

* * *

Chapter Sixteen

Dahlia bounces from station to station, trying to get a few minutes at each of them. She's also trying to avoid the white-blond Career's calculating gaze, and Adair, who about halfway to lunch decided that Dahlia and he should be doing everything together. Dahlia suspects he's just hanging around because he sucks at everything he's tried and doesn't want to embarrass himself further.

Of course, when he trips over Dahlia's foot because he's walking too close to her, he does that anyway. Dahlia smiles a little, Adair scowls, and the trainer at their current station (knot-tying) chuckles under her breath.

Adair mutters, "Shut up." That just makes their smiles widen.

A few seconds later, though, Dahlia gets bored with that, and picks up a length of rope. "Let's get started," she says.

The trainer nods, and she starts demonstrating. Adair stands there for a while longer, then he grabs his own length of rope and moves closer to Dahlia and the trainer.

They leave that station about ten minutes later, and Dahlia keeps bouncing around, the unwanted Adair on her heels.

She's in the middle of loading an arrow into her bow when it's time for dinner. She has to rush to put everything away and head for the lunchroom. Adair follows silently. Then, suddenly, he asks, "Where'd you learn to do all that stuff?"

Dahlia jumps. She glances over her shoulder at him. "What do you mean?"

"All that stuff you were doing. You're at least ok at most of the stuff we've done so far. Where did you learn to do all that?"

Dahlia panics for a second. Then she shrugs. "I dunno. Maybe it's just beginner's luck?"

Adair frowns at her. "Maybe," he says skeptically.

Dahlia's gonna have to be careful with him too. She sighs, then grabs some food. She plops down at a nearby, empty table and just stares at her food for a bit. Not surprisingly, Adair sits next to her.

"Shouldn't we be trying to make allies?" he asks.

"_You _can, if you want," Dahlia offers. She picks up her fork and stabs it into a piece of chicken. "But I'm not going with you. Just because we're from the same district doesn't instantly make us allies, you know."

Adair's face falls, but he masks it quickly. "Yeah, I know," he says indifferently, but Dahlia picks up just a hint of hurt in his voice.

A few seconds of silence pass before Adair gives up. He takes his tray and heads for a more populous table (though he stays far away from the Career table, Dahlia notices). Dahlia watches him walk away, but after a while, her eyes stray. They fall on the boy from Nine, Barric Ember, with his golden hair (it glints in the stark white light of the cafeteria) and deep green eyes. He's not looking at her. He's sitting across from a girl- probably his tribute partner- with strawberry blond hair pulled back into a high ponytail. Dahlia can't see her face from here, but she wishes she could. A strange flash of heat zips through her, settling in her stomach and burning. She feels a sudden urge to get up and march over to them, but she's not sure why.

Then suddenly, she realizes. She's _jealous_. No, no, no. She can't be jealous. She can't let this happen. Heck, that boy doesn't even know her name. She's never said a single word to him this entire time.

Besides, she tries to reason with herself, just because he's talking to another girl doesn't mean they're going out. He's probably just talking to her because she's from Nine, too. She probably gets him more than kids from other districts would. It makes sense, but the jealousy in the pit of her stomach only lessons slightly.

To distract herself, she looks back down at her plate and carefully places some chicken in her mouth. She chews slowly, savoring the taste. Even the Capitol's cafeteria food is good.

She works her way through her meal like that, trying to stay focused on it and ignore the word around her. But she's ADHD, of course. It's hard. Very, very hard. Her feet tap on the floor, and little snippets of other people's conversations break through the general babble all around her, tantalizing her ears and tempting her to look up, if only to see who she hears.

She manages to get done with her meal, and throw away the tray, before she finally looks around again. Her eyes light on three people in turn, almost of their own accord. First that white-blond Career. He doesn't seem to be paying Dahlia any attention right now. Second, her eyes find Adair's black locks in the crowd. He's sitting with a few other kids, smiling and talking and laughing and generally having a pretty good time, from what she can see. And last, she looks at Barric Ember. He's at the same table as before, with the same girl sitting across from him.

The only thing that makes this any different is what he does. Just as Dahlia looks at him, he happens to look up. Their eyes meet from across the room, for just a moment. Dahlia feels the heat rising to her cheeks, and she looks away quickly. She stares blankly at the far wall, trying to gain control of her emotions.

She's glad when they go back to training.

* * *

Adair keeps following her around. They head back to the archery range when lunch is over, and Dahlia carefully picks a bow, then grabs an arrow. Adair does too, but then he slings the bow across his back and Dahlia knows it's just for show.

"Ladies first," he says, flashing that annoying grin.

Dahlia shoots a glare at him, then takes her position. She remembers her conversation with him before lunch as she carefully loads the bow and aims. She's not great at archery, but she's still better than the average district kid would be. Living at camp tends to do that to you.

If she fakes a really bad shot, will it look realistic? For that matter, will she even need to fake it?

She takes a breath. _Just shoot, Dahlia. _She raises her bow and aims, intentionally holding the bow wrong. The trainer frowns and comes over.

"Not like that," she admonishes, fixing Dahlia's stance. She places her hands in the right place. "There. Now try."

Dahlia nods. "Thanks."

She pulls back on the bowstring, trying to get a lock on the target's center. Then she releases it.

The arrow sinks to the right of the bull's-eye, about half an inch from the target's edge. Dahlia bites her tongue to keeping from cursing in Ancient Greek. No reason to make Adair more suspicious than he already is.

The trainer gives her a smile. "It's fine, really. You did amazingly well for your first try."

She made another mistake, then. She scowls. "Yeah," she mutters. She steps back and looks at Adair expectantly.

He takes a step back. "You know what? I think the guy over at the"- he takes a quick look around-"trapping station looks kind of lonely. Maybe we should go over there." He takes another step back.

Dahlia smiles. "Oh, no. I tried, now you try. You're the one who decided to come along with me."

"But-"

"Adair. Just try. It won't hurt." Suddenly she remembers those first few months at camp, and she adds, in a soft murmur she hopes he can't hear, "Well, not much, anyway."

Adair eyes her suspiciously for a few seconds, then he slings the bow off his back and steps past her. He looks at the trainer desperately. Dahlia watches him.

The trainer goes over to him. She shows him how to stand, how to load the bow and aim it, how to hold it.

"You have to be careful," she explains patiently, moving his fingers and the arrow to a different spot on the bow. "You can't block the arrow's path. If you do, you'll probably end up hurting yourself more than your enemy."

She grabs a bow and arrow then goes back and stands next to Adair. "Watch me," she instructs. "You can lower the bow for now."

He does. Both Dahlia and Adair watch as the trainer carefully loads her bow. She stands up straight, her feet planted firmly on the ground. As she breathes in, she pulls back on the bowstring. When she breathes out, she releases the string. It soars from the bow and slams into the center of the target. She relaxes her stance at looks at Adair.

"See?" He nods. She continues, "Of course, you won't have the luxury of being able to do all that the way I did. If you did, it wouldn't be the Hunger Games." She laughs lightly. Neither Adair nor Dahlia follow her lead, and she shuts up quickly. "Sorry. Anyway, you'll have to be faster than that. If you went as slow as I just did, you'd be dead before you even had the arrow loaded. I just went that slow to be sure you saw everything I did."

Adair nods again. The trainer says, "Now raise your bow again. Take your stance. We'll go slow at first."

Adair obeys without a word. The trainer has to fix a few things, but after a moment, she steps back and nods. "Whenever you're ready." She takes a couple steps back, till she's standing next to Dahlia. Both of them train their eyes on Adair.

He takes a deep, calming breath, and seems to hold it for a few seconds. Then he lets it out in a huge sighing sound and concentrates on the target.

The first try is total crap. With effort, he manages to pull the bowstring back to where the trainer had. Inhale, exhale, and he releases the string. Unfortunately, he also releases the actual bow, so both arrow and bow go clattering to the floor, the arrow only about a foot away from him. His face turns bright red.

The trainer smiles reassuringly while Dahlia chokes down laughter. Not that she can blame him. She's done that a few times herself.

"It's alright, Adair," the trainer says. "It's your first try. Just shake it off. Pick the bow and arrow up and try again. Ok?"

Adair nods and retrieves his weapons. Dahlia hears him mutter to himself, "I can do this." Then he takes the position.

This one's better. Amazingly good, actually, for a beginner. The arrow leaves the bow and impales itself in the outermost ring, way above the bull's-eye, but a little closer than Dahlia's was. It doesn't go very deep, but it's deep enough to stay where it landed, trembling slightly.

Dahlia's mouth falls open, and she quickly masks the amazement. She notices that the trainer and Adair both look as shocked as she feels (though the trainer also covers it up quickly, probably so as not to offend Adair, though he's not paying any attention). Adair's brown eyes widen and flicker from the bow in his hand to the arrow, stuck into the target.

The trainer smiles hugely. "Good job, Adair!" she cries, making him jump and whirl, like he forgot she was there. Probably did, Dahlia figures. He stares at the trainer.

"Thanks..." he says hesitantly, like he still can't quite believe it. Frankly, Dahlia can't either. But she's hiding her emotions better than he is...at least she hopes she is.

The trainer goes over to him. "Do you want to try again?"

A strange light enters Adair's eyes. A little of the shock goes away, so he looks almost excited. Shocked and hopeful and excited, all at the same time. "Yeah," he says. "Yeah, I do."

He grabs another arrow, then loads it, straightens, aims, and fires. The arrow is a little closer than before, but from the below the center this time. He frowns slightly, disbelief washing over his features. Dahlia frowns too.

The trainer puts her hand on Adair's shoulder. "We just need to work on the aim. And maybe if you pulled back the bowstring just a little farther, the arrow would go deeper. But be happy you made the target. A lot of my first tries didn't even make it there."

Adair nods.

They spend most of the rest of their time today at the archery range.

* * *

That night at dinner, Chaff seems to be more sober than this morning. There is no alcohol to be seen. Toni wears a triumphant expression, Chaff wears an annoyed one, and Dahlia has to assume that Toni has taken all his alcohol away, if only for a little while. She suddenly feels like hugging her escort.

Maybe she and Adair will finally get some actual mentoring. So far they've just been winging it, going off what they've seen on TV and their own instincts. That's been going great, as far as Dahlia's concerned, but it'd be nice to have a little guidance.

The main topic at dinner is training. Tarquin and Decia look bored and utterly uninterested. Both of them just eat, without a word, except for a few quiet conversations between the two of them that Dahlia can't make out.

Everyone else, however, is engaged in conversation about training. Even Toni seems to care.

The first thing said once everyone is seated and has food in front of them is, "So how'd it go?" And the question comes from Chaff, believe it or not.

Instantly, everyone knows what he's talking about. Toni and Seeder both turn to look at Dahlia and Adair.

Before Dahlia can even open her mouth, Adair is blabbing about his archery skills, and how the trainer told him, just before they had to leave, that he was a natural. Dahlia refrains from rolling her eyes. He's not lying, but it's not like she didn't do good at archery, too. And he sucked at pretty much everything _but _archery, so Dahlia doesn't think it's fair for him to brag like this. But he's Adair, of course. She should've expected this.

Chaff is grinning through the whole thing, and Seeder and Toni are smiling too.

"That's good," Chaff says when Adair stops to take a breath. Adair pouts for a second, and Dahlia figures that means he'd been planning to say more. She's glad Chaff cut him off.

Adair's face quickly brightens, though. "Thanks," he says. "I was just glad I did something right. I...um, didn't do that good with everything else."

Dahlia laughs once, drawing all eyes to her. But she looks at Adair with amusement. "'Didn't do that good'. I think that's an understatement."

Adair glares at her. "That's not the point."

Dahlia just grins and shrugs.

The conversation about Adair continues for a few minutes, then Seeder asks, "How about you, Dahlia?"

Dahlia shrugs. "I was ok, I guess. The Careers were about a thousand times better than me. But I could probably hold my own." She hesitates for a moment. "And I did amazing on the edible plants test. The trainer told me I knew even more than he did."

Seeder, Toni and Adair look sufficiently impressed, but Chaff scoffs, "Of course you would. He knows exactly as much as he needs to and no more. Anyone in Eleven could probably beat that trainer and do pretty well on the test."

Dahlia's spirits fall a little. "Oh," she says. She's not sure why she's disappointed. At least she'll be able to survive.

Seeder says, "But it's good anyway, Dahlia. How well did you do?"

"Perfect score," Dahlia mutters, but she doesn't feel as much pride now.

Toni and Adair's eyes widen and Seeder smiles. Chaff looks a little bit surprised.

"A _perfect_ score?" Adair asks incredulously. "I didn't get that."

Dahlia's not surprised by that, but she doesn't tell him that. Instead she just shrugs.

Chaff and Seeder ask a few more questions about that. Then Toni, seeming to be bored with the topic, says, "What else?"

"I did ok in archery," Dahlia says, trying not to wince. She doesn't feel like she did ok. "Actually, I did pretty good in most of the stuff."

Seeder and Chaff nod. Seeder looks thoughtful. "I can work with that," she says. "You're obviously pretty strong, if you can do some of those things."

Dahlia frowns. "I guess," she says doubtfully.

Dinner continues on like that. Adair and Dahlia take turns telling everyone how they did in different places. They slowly work through their meal. And when it's time for bed, Dahlia's feeling pretty good.

She takes a shower. She still hasn't figured out how to work the showers here, so she comes out smelling weird, but she can't do anything about that, so she just changes into pajamas and climbs into bed.

She finds herself thinking of camp, and her friends back there. And Diamond and Mica. Gods, she misses home, and everyone there, so much. She's tired of the fear and worry and excitement that dominate her emotions these days. She just wants to be at home, leading her siblings through activities as usual, listening to Chiron tell his stories of the old days, talking to Diamond about her plan for the next capture-the-flag game. She doesn't want to be facing almost certain death, like she is now.

_Why?_ she thinks desperately, her eyes growing heavy. _Why was my name drawn? It shouldn't have been possible, but it was._

She falls asleep with these thoughts filling her head.

* * *

_**A/N: *insert usual request for reviews here* **_

_**Ok, so now that that's taken care of, thanks for the review I**** got for the last chapter****, WitchesBrew2 (cool name, by the way). I'm glad you like the story! :)  
**_

_**Bye till next time!  
**_


	17. Chapter 17

_**Disclaimer: I don't own The Hunger Games, Percy Jackson and the Olympians or Heroes of Olympus. They belong to their respective owners: Suzanne Collins and Rick Riordan.**_

* * *

Chapter Seventeen

Dahlia's standing in the middle of the training room. When they got here earlier this morning, she insisted that Adair stay away from from her, or else. There must've been something in her expression when she said that, because he's obeying her wishes.

She found out the white-blond Career's name. It's Slate, and he's from Two. And she found out the huge dude from One's name. Castle. When she heard those, she almost groaned. The Careers with their strange names again.

Of course, Castle is almost as big as a castle, so she supposes it works. She snickers at that thought.

She's been debating talking to Barric all day. And she keeps rejecting the idea. She tries to focus on the training, glancing up at the Gamemakers every once in a while. Most of the time, they're not even paying attention, but whenever something loud and interesting happens, they glance over for like three seconds, then turn back around. That kind of ticks Dahlia off, but she's also kind of glad. _At least I'm still Invisa-girl_, she thinks wryly, and giggles under her breath as she picks up one of the knives at the knife-throwing station. She tosses it at the target and...it flies past the target, into the wall. She blushes as the other people in the station laugh, and notices Slate, Castle, and the other Careers smiling at her with a malicious glint in their eyes. She gulps and mentally scolds herself: _Pay attention to what you're doing!_

She retrieves her knife and hands it to the trainer with a sheepish smile. "Sorry."

The trainer manages a smile and takes the knife. "It's fine. At least we know you've got a strong arm."

Dahlia smiles a little. "Yeah, I guess."

She moves to the back of the line again.

Castle is up next. He walks with a sort of swagger, head held high. Completely arrogant and confident, looking at all the other kids like they're dirt. He terrifies Dahlia, but the way he acts makes her angry. Just because he's from one of the Capitol-coddled districts doesn't mean he's better than everyone else.

After all, kids from other districts win sometimes. Heck, only three years ago, some guy from District Twelve- Haymitch Abernathy, Dahlia thinks his name was- won. And he was going up against _forty-seven_ other tributes, rather than just twenty-three.

That thought comforts Dahlia a little. Maybe if he managed that, she has a chance, too.

Castle tosses the knife. With a loud _thud_, it slams into the target, two inches from the bull's-eye. Castle's eyes widen in disbelief, and Dahlia's sure he's about to explode. He doesn't, just stomps over, yanks the knife from the target, and stomps back to stand behind Dahlia. He looks so mad that she worries he might break the rules and stab her in the back here and now. He doesn't do that, either.

When it's Dahlia's turn again, she actually focuses this time, and the knife lands about an inch from the bull's-eye. Dahlia's pretty happy with this. She leaves the station quickly.

When she scans the training room for another station to go to, she spots Barric Ember hovering between the library area and the sword-fighting section, an uncertain expression on his face. Without thinking, Dahlia heads over to him.

"Hi."

He jumps and whirls, and when his beautiful green eyes meet hers, her heart skips a beat. She shouldn't have come over here.

"Hi?" Barric asks nervously.

Dahlia shifts uncomfortably and sticks her hand out. "I'm Dahlia."

Barric studies the hand distrustfully for a moment, before he shrugs and grabs it. They shake, then pull away quickly.

"Barric Ember."

Dahlia can't tell him, _I know_. She just nods and smiles. "Nice to meet you."

Barric doesn't smile. "It's really not."

Dahlia sighs. She knows exactly what he means. "Yeah..."

A few seconds of awkward silence pass, then Barric asks, "So did you need anything?"

"No." Dahlia shakes her head. "You just looked kind of lost. Thought maybe I could help you." She manages a half-smile.

Surprisingly, he half-smiles back. "You've got that right." He waves over at the sword-fighting station, where a tribute- Dahlia's pretty sure it's the guy from Five- is sparring with the trainer. The kid's not bad, Dahlia supposes, but most of the kids at camp could beat him. Unfortunately, Dahlia's not one of them. Sword-fighting has never been her thing.

"I'm not sure how to do that," Barric says.

"Yeah, it looks pretty hard," Dahlia admits.

He glances at her. "Maybe we could figure it out together."

"Sure," Dahlia mutters. "Why not?"

Barric looks relieved. Dahlia realizes he was just hesitating because he wanted to have someone to fail along with him. She smiles slightly as the two of them walk into the sword-fighting station.

Barric goes first. He picks up a bunch of different swords, then finally settles on one of the shorter ones. It's steel, which throws Dahlia for a moment before she remembers that mortals don't use Celestial bronze or Imperial gold. It has a simple leather handle and a metal hilt, nothing that impressive. But the double-edged blade looks wicked sharp. It glints in the light, but not like Barric's hair. The blade's glint is sinister and imposing. But it looks perfect in Barric's hand.

Even though he's holding it wrong. The first thing the trainer does is fix that. Then he orders him to stand up straighter. Barric looks nervous, but he obeys.

The trainer gives a few more pointers, then he comes at Barric.

Miraculously, Barric catches the first strike on the hilt of the sword, stumbling backwards. A loud _CLANG _rings out and a few sparks fly. The next strike, however, Barric barely manages to avoid. He spins out of the way and nearly drops his sword.

The trainer comes after him again. Barric raises his sword just in time to lock hilts with the trainer. For half a second, neither of them moved, and Barric seems a little surprised that he's managed that much. Then the trainer twists downward, until Barric has no choice but to drop his sword. The weapon clatters against the floor, and the trainer presses his blade to Barric's throat before he can pick it back up.

Dahlia watches his Adam's apple bob up and down as he gulps nervously. The trainer sheaths his weapon and grins. "Nice try, kid. Get some practice over there"- he waves toward some nearby training dummies- "then come talk to me." He looks up. "Next?"

Dahlia takes a deep breath and raises her hand. "Me," she calls. She grabs a sword from the array of choices and slowly goes over to him. Barric shoots her an apologetic look, grabs his sword off the floor, and heads over to the dummies.

Dahlia's sword feels heavy in her hands. She faces the instructor, praying silently that he'll go easy on her. His name tag is incomprehensible, thanks to her dyslexia. It looks like a word scramble game, one that her brain just can't make sense of.

The instructor looks her over, his eyes too wide and golden. The way he holds himself reminds her of a Career. It's the same sort of arrogance, but his expression is a little softer than Castle's, or Slate's, or any of the other Careers'. He looks at her as if she's beneath him, but not as if she doesn't deserve the privilege of his gaze. She can deal with that. At camp, there are both Capitolites and Career kids. She's sort of used to being looked down on. But not as much as Castle looks down on everyone.

The trainer nods once. Then he comes at Dahlia.

Dahlia yelps and manages to jump out of the way of his first strike. She raises her sword, but when he comes at her again, he manages a cut on Dahlia's arm. She winces but doesn't cry out, and swings wildly. The trainer sidesteps easily and slashes. Dahlia raises her blade in time for the metal to collide with a _CLANG_ and a shower of sparks. Dahlia pulls out quickly, not wanting to get disarmed. But the trainer lunges out again, locks blades with her, and twists violently. She tries desperately to hold on, but soon the sword clatters out of her hand almost of its own accord.

The trainer sheathes his blade and, without a word, points over to the training dummies, where Barric is. Dahlia nods and picks up her sword. _Gods, this thing is heavy..._ She lugs it over to the dummies, then just watches Barric for a while.

He's not great at this, but even clumsy, he looks amazing. He's dressed simply in jeans and a tight-fitting white t-shirt. His shoes are black leather boots, like pretty much everyone else's. His golden hair flops into his eyes. He's slashing at the dummies, a look of slight panic in his eyes.

Dahlia watches as he beats up the dummy, sort of interested. He's clumsy only in the way he wields the sword. The way he walks is graceful, nearly silent, with light, quick, careful steps. He's slowed down from the sword's weight, but it's obvious he's used to walking carefully and quietly. He's from the grain district, though, so it makes sense. Walking around in fields of wheat and other grains, Dahlia figures you have to be as careful as in the orchards and fields and gardens of District Eleven.

She gets caught up in watching him, the way he walks. It's almost like a dance. She only snaps out of it when he stops moving and looks at her. Her cheeks redden.

He smiles a little as he steps back from the dummy and lowers his sword, but it quickly disappears. "How'd it go?"

Dahlia takes a few steps toward him and shrugs. "Not good. He ordered me over here, too."

"Then we can help each other, I guess."

Dahlia smiles. "Yeah."

Everything about this feels so easy. Still, she shouldn't have talked to him.

It's a little too late for that now, though. And, even though she shouldn't, she has to admit she likes it this way.

* * *

_**A/N: So, you know the drill. Please review. **_

_**Moving on.  
**_

_**WitchesBrew2: No problem. I'm just glad you like the story. I've only seen the HP movies (I want to read the books...), but I like the way your name sounds. All rhyme-y. It's cool.  
**_

_**And...that's all for now. See you next chapter. :)  
**_


	18. Chapter 18

_**Disclaimer: I don't own The Hunger Games, Percy Jackson and the Olympians or Heroes of Olympus. They belong to their respective owners: Suzanne Collins and Rick Riordan.**_

* * *

Chapter Eighteen

Barric and Dahlia get their lunch together, then go their separate ways and sit and different tables. The second Dahlia sits down (at a table as far away from everyone else as she can possibly get), Adair decides to take advantage of this. He plops down next to her.

"Hey."

Dahlia sighs. "What do you want, Adair?"

"I haven't seen you all day. I just wanted to talk to you."

"I thought we decided that we _wouldn't_ talk to each other all day today."

"_You_ did that," Adair points out. "Not me. Besides, you're talking to me, aren't you?"

"I don't have anything better to do."

Adair fakes a hurt look. "That hurts, Dahli." Then his expression hardens into a hurt more real. "And, 'sides, you've got lots to do. Why don't you go hang out with your new boyfriend?"

Dahlia's jaw drops. She stares at Adair in shock. "What?"

"Oh, don't play that with me. I've seen the way you look at him. This is the Hunger Games, you know. You oughta hide that better than you do."

Dahlia just stares at him, trying to think of some sort of comeback. Finally, she says, "When did you become a mentor?"

Adair gives her a stern look. "Fine, be sarcastic. But you have to know a romance in the Hunger Games is never gonna end well."

"You're the one who kissed me on the train."

Adair shrugs and doesn't comment, but Dahlia notices how his cheeks are flushed. He's...blushing? All at once, the realization hits her, and she resists the urge to groan at her own stupidity. _Of course he likes you, idiot. Why would he _kiss _you if he didn't?_

Problem is, she doesn't like him. Not that way, anyway. She turns away from him and doesn't say a word. Best not to. They eat in silence for a while.

Then Adair shakes his head and returns to his normal annoying self. He either didn't notice Dahlia's epiphany, or refuses to acknowledge it. Dahlia doesn't mention it either.

"You gonna eat that?" He reaches out and tries to snatch some food off of Dahlia's plate. She bats his hand away and scowls at him.

"Yes."

"Doesn't look like it."

To prove him wrong, Dahlia grabs her fork and scoops up some food. She shoves it into her mouth and swallows quickly. She can't help but wrinkle her nose, if just a little. This is the first time that food from the Capitol hasn't appealed to her. Adair sees her expression and laughs. There's an undercurrent to the sound, something that Dahlia can't quite identify.

He asks, "So can I have that, then?"

Dahlia sighs. "Sure, I guess." He starts scooping the food up, right out of her tray. She just sighs and takes a bite of some of the food she does like.

* * *

The rest of the day Dahlia either hangs around Barric, Adair, both (Adair insists on being introduced, maybe out of jealousy, maybe just to be annoying, probably both), or by herself. She can't help but feel just a little awkward around Adair now, but she hides it easily, and after a while it sort of fades away, subverted by amusement. Barric and Adair have an interesting relationship to say the least. Barric seems to be faintly annoyed by Adair, but he jokes around with him anyway. They talk about all sorts of stuff, and Dahlia finds that with Adair around, conversation with Barric is less awkward. At least, she doesn't have to rack her brain for something to say.

Even so, Adair seems to find Barric a bit annoying too. He and Barric become fast half-friends, if that makes any sense.

For at least an hour after lunch, they hang around the dummies in the sword-fighting section, holding swords but not really practicing. Occasionally, one of them will take a swing at a dummy (usually when the trainer's looking over, which isn't often) or, teasingly, at each other. The cut on Dahlia's arm reminds her that that's a dangerous idea, but she dealt with this at camp, too, so it doesn't really concern her. Of course, that was with experienced fighters, instead of two teenaged boys who probably saw real swords for the very first time today... She forces the thought away. Nothing bad is going to happen.

After a while, they move on to other stations. Their little group keeps splitting apart or coming back together for the rest of the day. Dahlia goes to the edible plants section again, while Barric's at the trapping area and Adair's showing off at the archery station (he's gotten better... Not anywhere near as good as Apollo's kids back at camp, though. Still, if this was camp, that's probably what everyone would be thinking. That or Hermes.) Dahlia shakes her head. She wishes she could be at camp. Her thoughts keep drifting back to it, to Chiron's face, to Diamond's and Mica's, to all of her siblings' faces, and her other friends'. She even thinks about the stupid jokes at the campfire that everyone laughs at no matter how many times they've heard them before. She misses those jokes. She misses the laughter, the campfire stories, the silly songs that would be embarrassing any other place but there. Heck, she even misses training, and that's saying a lot.

Unbidden, tears creep into her eyes. She wipes them away, along with the thoughts of her old home. She can't get nostalgic. No matter what happens, she won't be going back there ever again.

She tries to immerse herself in the tests, to not let Trek know that she's feeling a bit off.

When she meets up with Adair and Barric again, it's even easier to act normal. The light banter distracts her, the way Barric's green eyes flash with annoyance every once in a while, the way Adair's smirk becomes a little more pronounced every time they do. And just Barric himself distracts her. His golden hair flashes in the light and his green eyes sparkle when he laughs. They meet Adair's brown ones. The tiniest smirk crosses Barric's beautiful face, only to disappear quickly. Adair frowns just a little.

Dahlia smiles and turns away. She carefully picks a knife up off the table and faces the target. She aims carefully and tosses, then gasps aloud when the knife's blade sinks into the bull's-eye. _Whoa. Never done that before._ The trainer's wary smile changes to a bright one.

"Much better than earlier!" the trainer enthuses. Dahlia turns bright red, remembering her first try from earlier, when she'd sent the knife into the wall _behind_ the target.

Adair and Barric both give her questioning looks, like, _What does she mean?_ Dahlia refuses to meet their eyes. She nods at the trainer and gets the knife.

Then she moves to the back of the line. She can feel someone's eyes on her. She turns and finds Slate looking at her from the station next to hers. She turns away quickly.

She, Barric, and Adair take a few turns, then Dahlia insists they leave, even though she's doing great. Slate's eyes on her make it hard to feel the victory. She just feels cold and scared and small, especially since whenever she looks over at him, he's smiling a twisted smile, his green eyes detached. She notices Castle behind him, glancing over at him every once in a while, and she shudders.

The Careers creep her out. All she wants is to not be noticed by them, but _something_ has brought her to their- or at least Slate's- attention. She wishes she knew what. And she wishes she could make it go away.

Adair and Barric look confused, but they must see the panic in her eyes. They don't question her...yet.

But they do later on. The three of them are hanging out in the library station, flipping through books. None of them are sure why they're over here, but apparently these books have some useful information. Dahlia can barely read them, though. The letters get all twisted around and she can't make sense of them. She wishes she could find an Ancient Greek copy, but of course that's impossible. She'll just have to suffer through.

Or pretend to read. Which is what she's doing right now.

Anyway, while they're doing that, Adair's voice floats over to her from another aisle. His tone is very casual. "So why'd you wanna leave the knife-throwing station so bad earlier? You were doing amazing."

Dahlia nearly drops the book. She hears a soft chuckle and glances at the end of the aisle. There's Barric, watching her, amusement glinting in his eyes. She frowns, feeling the heat rise to her cheeks. _Way to go, Dahlia._

She looks away. "No reason." She forces her voice to be calm.

Adair appears next to Barric and raises his eyebrows. A leather-bound book is in his hand, but he's not paying attention to it. Dahlia wishes he would.

"Uh-huh," he says. "Then why'd you look so panicked?"

Dahlia looks down at the book in her hand. It's still open. Page 97. She can't read the title at the top, but below it is a picture of a giant grizzly with its mouth open, ready to chomp someone's head off. Dahlia's suddenly glad she can't read this.

"Dahli?" Adair's voice jolts her back to the present. She snaps her head up and looks at him, closing the book with a light _thud_.

"Yeah?"

"Why did you want to leave knife-throwing so quickly?"

"Why's it matter?" Dahlia counters. "That was hours ago." She glances down at her book again. The brown leather is soft in her hand, the gold title engraved on it faded. Not like she'd be able to read it very well anyway.

"It matters to me."

Dahlia smirks. "Yeah, and that makes me so anxious to tell you."

Adair crosses his arms and does a pretty good job of looking offended. If Dahlia didn't know him better, she would've thought it real. "Not nice, Dahli. Not nice at all."

Dahlia just shrugs. Adair scowls at her. She grins back at him.

And then he tries again. Dahlia frowns and stares down at the book in her hands. "It's not important," she insists, glancing over at Adair and Barric for a moment as she turns around and tucks the book onto the shelf.

She feels a hand on her shoulder and glances up. She finds herself staring into Barric's eyes. His nearness kind of shocks her. She takes a step back, but she can't look away.

Barric lowers his hand. Distantly, Dahlia notices Adair standing about three feet behind him, watching with his arms crossed. He looks a little mad. Her eyes drift back to Barric's.

"If it's so unimportant," Barric says. "Then why do you look so scared?"

"I don't," she protests. Barric and Adair both let out exasperated sighs.

Adair pushes past Barric. He meets Dahlia's eyes evenly. Some mysterious emotion boils just under the surface of his.

"We might be able to help you, you know," he says slowly. "We're your friends." It sounds like a question, and his expression looks uncertain. He's apparently not sure she really considers him a friend. Suddenly Dahlia feels a little guilty.

"I know," she responds. He studies her for a moment and slowly relaxes.

Barric clears his throat. He didn't miss the exchange, obviously. "So you can tell us," he concludes. "Spill it."

Dahlia takes a deep breath. She looks down at her hands, suddenly remembering she doesn't have a book in her hands anymore. Quickly, she rips one off the shelf. Its weight is familiar and comforting. It reminds her of camp, and she has to force the thought from her mind. She looks back up.

"Some Career, Slate...he's been watching me. I don't know why. He hasn't ever said anything to me..."

Adair and Barric wear identical expressions of concern and confusion. "Oh," Adair mutters.

"Yeah," Dahlia says shortly. She looks back down and opens the book. She stares at the page dully, not even trying to read.

A hand touches her shoulder, and she looks up again. It's Adair. His eyes look softer now, like milk chocolate, instead of the hard-packed dirt they resembled a moment ago.

"It'll be fine. Probably." He gives her that familiar crooked smile. Trying to cheer her up, in his own annoying way.

Dahlia takes a step back, away from his hand. Barric elbows Adair in the ribs, who shoots him a glare. Barric looks back at Dahlia.

"It's fine," he says confidently, but Dahlia can see the uncertainty lingering in his eyes. He runs his hand through his hair. "Probably doesn't mean anything."

Dahlia and Adair both stare at him incredulously, and he sighs. "Ok, fine. It probably means something. Just...we'll be careful."

Dahlia and Adair nod. The subject drops, and they go back to their wanderings.

* * *

_**A/N: So this is a pretty awful chapter to put up after such a long time, but there it is. I hope you enjoyed it. :) See y'all till next time!**_


	19. Chapter 19

_**Disclaimer: I don't own The Hunger Games, Percy Jackson and the Olympians or Heroes of Olympus. They belong to their respective owners: Suzanne Collins and Rick Riordan.**_

* * *

Chapter Nineteen

After dinner, which if you ask Dahlia was more like an interrogation, she makes her way up to the roof and sits near the edge, staring down at the street. It's colorful and bright and...happy. When she is anything but. Why do the Capitol people, even Toni, think that the Hunger Games is such a great thing? Don't they see the people _dying_?

She cuts off that thought and looks around quickly, as if someone might hear her. Then she realizes how stupid that is, but still. Better safe than sorry.

She hasn't had to worry about things like that in a long time. Camp isn't like Panem. It isn't riddled with listening devices and people who will tell on you to Peacekeepers in a desperate attempt to get some food for their family. Most times, Peacekeepers probably don't even say thank you, so the effort is wasted. But people get desperate. So you always have to be careful.

It's amazing how easily Dahlia forgot that while she was at camp. Maybe it's just easier to get used to freedom than captivity.

With these thoughts come the other ones. Of Chiron and Diamond and Mica and all her friends. Of camp activities and laughter and not being terrified that she'll die in three days. At least, not the same kind of fear she feels now. She forces them away, tries to make her mind go blank as she stares down at the colorful party down on the streets.

For a wild second, she wishes she could be down there with them, those insane people. Then at least she'd be safe.

Then she forces that from her mind too.

_If I'm not allowed to think, why did I even come up here? _she wonders.

She came up here to think, to have somewhere where she can cry without fear of being heard or seen. Now she realizes that in the Capitol, there's really no place like that. But the wind is loud enough that at least sounds will be suppressed. She pulls her knees to her chest, buries her face in them, and allows herself to cry.

That doesn't last very long, though. A quiet, raspy, unfamiliar voice asks, "Who are you? What are you doing up here?"

Dahlia's head snaps up. It's dark, but she can see the huge silhouette of the boy standing in front of her. Just enough light filters in from the streets for her to make out his face, and when she does, her heart skips a beat, then starts racing. It's Slate.

Oh, gods. What...what is _he _doing here? She looks back down, hoping it's too dark for him to recognize her.

"Nothing," she says carefully, trying to keep the fear out of her voice. It must not work, because when she risks a glance up at his face, a cruel smirk twists his features.

"In that case, you should probably get going. The others will be here soon, and I hate to think what they'll do to you."

Fear zips through Dahlia. The other Careers are coming. This must be their meeting place. She nods and jumps to her feet.

"They're not allowed to hurt me," she hears herself say, and tries not to curse.

The smirk on Slate's face becomes more pronounced. "I don't think they care."

She nods quickly, and hurries past him. Just before she steps onto the elevator, though, he says something that makes her freeze.

"Oh, by the way, it's nice to finally talk to you, Dahlia."

Dahlia stops short. She stands there for a few seconds, shocked, then whirls around. She stares at him. Even in the dark, his light hair and bright green eyes are easy to see.

"How do you know my name?"

He laughs, a cold sound. "How could I not know your name, after you and that boy stole the show on the chariots? Castle was furious. Still is."

"Well... I'm sorry, then."

Slate laughs again. The sound sends a shiver down Dahlia's spine. Why is she still here? She should turn around, run away. That's what a _normal _person would do.

But she's faced monsters and Ares's children (and even Diamond, the time they got into that fight. That was not fun). She is decidedly not normal. And Slate doesn't scare her near as much as the other things she's faced. Still...

"Don't apologize. His reaction was pretty funny."

"Great," Dahlia mutters. She's still not moving, like the idiot she is. She scans the roof warily. In the darkness, she thinks she sees something move, but when she squints at the spot, she sees nothing. She turns her eyes on Slate again, and takes a cautious step back.

The way he's looking at her. His face holds the same kind of cruel curiosity that's been there since she saw him on the first day of training.

"Why are you so interested in me?" she blurts, then takes another step back, quickly. Why did she say that?

That cold laughter sounds again. This dude's either sadistic or insane. Maybe both. Out of the corner of her eye, she thinks she sees something move again, in the darkness to her right.

"You're Invisa-girl. You might be of some use to us, you know."

"I'm not joining the Careers," she snaps, the words slipping out before she can stop them. That seems to be happening a lot in this conversation. She needs to be more careful.

Slate chuckles. "Of course not. Still, you're pretty brave. Castle doesn't seem to see that."

He's going to try to convince her. She needs to get out of here. "Because there's nothing to see," Dahlia insists quietly. "Now, I need to go. Long day tomorrow."

She can hear the fear charged in every word, but Slate either doesn't notice or doesn't want to acknowledge it. He grins, his teeth flashing in the dark. "Of course."

Dahlia turns and walks away. Slate calls after her, "See you tomorrow!" His voice is so cheerful you'd think they were best friends, meeting up for lunch or something. But the rasp in it, and even the happy tone, sends a shiver down her spine.

When she gets down to her floor, she bolts for her room.

And more surprises, because this night isn't full of them already. She walks into her room and finds a panicked Adair, his black hair messed up and his eyes wild, standing in the middle of her room.

"What are you _doing_ here?" she demands, voice full of irritation. She just wants to go to sleep, even if sleep means more nightmares. She wants to pretend for a few hours that she'll be ok, that she's not about to go into the Hunger Games.

"Where were you?" he asks, ignoring her.

"The roof," she says, still irritated. She's standing in the doorway, arms crossed, glaring through the darkness at him. He's barely visible, standing in the shadows. It strikes her how different he looks compared to Slate. Slate is practically a giant, heavily muscled and very, very tall. Adair's frame is slighter, muscular, but not as if he's been on steroids since he was born. He's also only a little taller than Dahlia, while Slate would tower over them both. Slate's hair and eyes are light, and they glimmer ever so slightly even in darkness. Adair's hair is black, his eyes brown. Pretty much the only reason she can tell he's there is because of the light coming from the hall behind her, mostly blocked by her own body.

She's thankful for the difference.

Adair steps toward her. "The roof?" His voice is full of disbelief. "Why on earth were you up there?"

Dahlia shrugs. She steps into the room and turns the light on. Both she and Adair squint in the sudden brightness, letting their eyes adjust.

"I don't know," she says. "I just needed to think."

"Ok..." He's studying her face. Suddenly Dahlia wishes it could be dark again, so he wouldn't be able to see her face to read it.

"Are you ok? You look like you've seen a ghost."

She's seen worse than a ghost. "I'm fine. Now, why are you in here?"

Adair runs his hand through his hair. "I couldn't sleep. And I was...bored." He stops. Judging from his expression, he was also scared, just like she is, about what'll happen next, but she decides not to comment on that.

"So you decided you'd come wake me up? What a gentleman you are."

He grins. "Yeah. But obviously you were awake anyway, so it doesn't matter."

"You know, I'd rather not be awake right now."

The grin disappears, and he sighs. "Ok. Sweet dreams, I guess. But not till you tell me what you saw on the roof."

So she didn't distract him enough. She crosses over to the bed and flops down, staring at her feet, trying to decide what to tell him. She'll just tell him the truth, she decides. It's the only way to get him to go away quickly. She looks back up and meets his eyes.

"I talked to Slate."

Adair's eyes widened. "You did?"

"Yeah. Apparently the Careers meet up there at night."

"Really?"

Dahlia stares at him, trying to figure out why he looks so excited. "Yes."

He nods. He takes a step toward the door, excitement still written on his face. Then he pauses, frowning. He turns back to her. "What did he say?"

"Basically, he told me to get away before the other Careers got up there. And he told me Castle was mad about us 'stealing the show' on the chariots. He thinks I can help them somehow..."

Adair's frown deepens, and he nods. "Ok." He starts toward the door again.

"Wait." Dahlia gets up. Adair stops in the doorway and turns around.

"What?"

"Where are you going?"

"You told me you wanted me to go."

"Not that. Why did you look so excited?"

"Dahli," Adair says, "there's a Career meeting going on on the roof. You think I'm gonna pass up an opportunity to find out what they're planning?"

Slowly, his plan dawns on her, and she frowns. "That's crazy. They'll catch you."

He waves her off. "I'll be fine. 'Sides, it's no use going back to bed. I won't be able to sleep."

"Adair-"

"Dahli. I'll be fine."

She wants to protest, but before she can say anything, he steps out of the room, pulling the door closed behind him.

She stares at it, wondering if she should follow him. But she doesn't want to get mixed up in his insane idea. Plus, if she follows him, she might put him in even more danger. One eavesdropper is harder to spot than two, and in darkness, Adair is almost invisible, with the dark hair and eyes. Dahlia's hair is blond. It'd glint, if only a little.

And she's so tired, anyway. She just wants to get away for a little while.

So she climbs into bed without bothering to change into pajamas, and she falls asleep quickly.

* * *

Dahlia hates her dreams, like most half-bloods. The instant she falls asleep, she's swept up in a dream.

Diamond and Mica are crouched next to the Training Center, watching the party swirl on the streets uneasily. Dahlia does a double take. They're in the Capitol already? Right next to the Training Center? She can't help but feel a little excited.

"We're here," Mica mutters glumly, glancing up at the building.

"Yeah," Diamond agrees. Her eyes are still on the swirl of people in the streets.

"How are we going to save her, then?"

Diamond hesitates. "I'm not sure."

Dahlia goes over to them, but they don't seem to notice her. She wants to cry. They're so close, but so far away. She wants to talk to them so badly... so even though it's crazy, she decides to try.

"Guys," she whispers hurriedly, weirdly afraid someone else will hear her.

Both their heads snap up, and she realizes with a shock that they heard her.

Diamond mutters, "Dahli?" She glances at Mica. "Did you-?"

He nods, staring at the spot where Dahlia is standing. He doesn't seem to see anything.

"It's me," Dahlia murmurs. "Gods, I miss you guys..."

Diamond stares at the spot where Dahlia's standing too. She apparently can't see anything either.

"We miss you too," Mica pipes up. His voice sounds awed. "How are you... Are you really..."

She knows what he's asking. "I don't know." Her dream is blurring at the edges, trickling away. She holds onto it with all her strength. "I just... I had to talk to you." Her voice cracks, and she forces herself to sound casual. "You know, before I die."

Diamond frowns. The vision is still trickling away. Dahlia can only see half of the scene now.

"You won't die," Diamond insists. "Just remember what I told you. You'll be fine. You'll be a victor."

"I won't be able to see you again." Now Dahlia can only see Mica and Diamond. She knows she'll lose them soon, too.

"You're not going to die," Mica insists, ignoring her.

"I...know," Dahlia says haltingly. She doesn't really believe that. "Just... I'll miss you guys. I'll miss everyone. And-"

The dream changes. Dahlia wants to scream. She almost thinks that she is, until she realizes the scream is coming from somewhere farther away.

She looks around, startled. It's night. Stars shine in the black sky above. She's in the courtyard at Camp Half-Blood, kneeling next to the fire. A little girl in a brown dress is sitting next to her, tending the flames.

"They miss you," the girl says calmly, not looking up from the fire.

"Who does?" Dahlia asks, confused. "Who are you?"

"Your friends sent word to Chiron. Everyone at camp now knows that you are going into the Hunger Games. Your siblings miss you." She looks up finally. Her eyes are flames, but they don't look scary. Looking into them makes Dahlia feel warm and happy, like she's safe at home. The girl waves her hand toward the Demeter cabin. Dahlia suddenly realizes that's where the screaming is coming from.

Then she realizes it's not screaming. Not really. It's sobbing. Someone's crying.

"I-" Words fail her. She wants to jump up, run to her sibling's aid. But she can't. It's no use.

The girl gives her a sad smile. "As to who I am. I am sure you can guess."

Dahlia studies the girl. Those fiery eyes, the way that just sitting next to her makes Dahlia feel at home, even with all the sadness inside her. With a gasp, she realizes who this is. She scoots away a little in shock.

"You're Hestia, goddess of the hearth. But I thought-"

"That the gods have gone silent? We have. Most of the gods have not spoken with mortal heroes in a hundred years. But someone must be here to tend the flames. I must be here to keep this place like a home. I am one of the few gods still in the world."

"Oh." Dahlia hesitates. She feels awkward now, knowing that this little girl next to her is a goddess. No half-blood has spoken with a god since before the start of the Hunger Games, apparently. So why her? Why now? She feels like she should bow or curtsy or speak formally...or _something_. This is a _goddess_, after all.

Hestia smiles at her, as if she knows what she's thinking. Dahlia realizes that she probably does, and blushes slightly.

Finally, Dahlia manages, "This is a huge honor, Lady Hestia, but...why are you talking to me?" She winces at the way that sounds. "I mean, if you haven't talked to a half-blood in a hundred years, why are you talking to me now? What's so important that..." She trails off.

Hestia's smile turns sad. "Hope survives best at the hearth, my girl. And you need hope right now. All demigods do."

That doesn't make much sense. She studies Hestia's face, but it has turned expressionless, impossible to read. Dahlia frowns.

"Ok," she says slowly. "But...why? What am I... What do I..."

"I am sorry, Dahlia Okelley, but I cannot tell you everything. All you need to know is that the gods are here. I am still here. Do not lose hope, my girl. Things will get worse, but it will get better too. You are part of that."

Hestia turns her fiery eyes on Dahlia again. "You are very important, Dahlia Okelley. More than you know."

Dahlia is still hopelessly confused, but she nods. "Yes, Lady Hestia."

The goddess gives her another sad smile. Then the dream disappears, and Dahlia wakes up, the image of the goddess's face still burned into her mind.

A goddess spoke to her in her dreams. She told her not to lose hope. Dahlia has to try to obey, even though it seems impossible.

She gets out of bed and gets ready for the day.


	20. Chapter 20

_**Disclaimer: I don't own The Hunger Games, Percy Jackson and the Olympians or Heroes of Olympus. They belong to their respective owners: Suzanne Collins and Rick Riordan.**_

* * *

Chapter Twenty

Adair tells Dahlia and Barric about his findings when they get to the training room, but Dahlia is barely listening. For one thing, she's still recovering from the shock of talking to a goddess in her dreams, and trying to figure out what exactly said goddess was talking about. She had no clue that gods spoke in riddles. Second, she keeps thinking about Diamond and Mica, and how they're so close but she can't get to them, and they probably can't get to her either. And lastly, she can practically feel Slate's eyes on her. She can still hear his cold laughter and his raspy voice, and she wishes she could forget.

Anyway, the best she can do is look like she's listening. She's glad when she doesn't have to do that anymore, and she can just wander around with Adair and Barric. As long as they don't go to a station with weapons she doesn't really have to pay attention. If they notice her distraction, they don't let on. At least, she's pretty sure they don't.

The three of them wander over to the edible plants station. Trek takes one look at Dahlia and sighs.

"Rematch, I suppose?"

Dahlia jumps and shakes her head to clear it. She looks at Trek, suddenly realizing where she is. She grins at him, while her friends watch curiously.

"No, I think I'll sit it out this time," she says, and she swears his expression looks relieved for half a second before he masks it. "Let's see how good my friends are at this."

"Let's." They both look at Barric and Adair, who both seem a bit confused.

Adair recovers first. He shrugs. "I'll go first, I guess." He glances at Barric, then at Dahlia. "No laughing if I fail, 'k?"

"No promises," Dahlia says with a half-smile. Adair gives her a glare, but he's grinning. Not his best acting. He turns to Trek and raises his eyebrows.

"You're from Eleven, right?" Trek asks.

"Yeah."

"Then I guess you don't need the teaching part first, do you?"

Adair considers for a second. "Dunno. Probably not."

"Then let's get started."

Adair does really well. A lot better than Dahlia expected him to. He just never struck her as someone who paid attention to...well, anything, really. But she reminds herself she hasn't lived in District Eleven for two years. She might've forgotten a lot about what it's like. All she really remembers is that the Peacekeepers used to like to punish people in the square, to set an example for everyone else. _Don't mess with us, or you'll end up just like this poor schmuck._ And it worked. At least on the surface. Dahlia remembers that there were whispers of rebellion, but everyone was too afraid to really try to put it into action.

Most of her memories from before camp are about family life, almost like she intentionally blocked out the hours spent in the fields and orchards and gardens.

Anyway, life in District Eleven probably forces you to pay attention to stuff like that. She doesn't really remember, but she figures not all of her knowledge of plants came from simply being Demeter's daughter, or from the countless hours spent in her cabin reading.

Adair doesn't get a perfect score like she did, but he gets awfully close. He grins like an idiot when he's done, obviously proud of his accomplishment. Dahlia thinks she hears Trek mutter something about "stupid Eleven kids," and she can't help but smile.

Adair comes over to her and Barric, still grinning.

"Your turn, Bar," he says.

"Ok." Barric shrugs. He walks over to Trek, his step as light and graceful as before.

"District?" Trek asks, not looking up from the tablet in his hands.

"Nine."

Trek nods. He taps the pad, waits a few seconds, then taps it again. Finally, he looks up. "Barric Ember. You need a training session?"

"Um..." Barric hesitates. "Yes. Just in case."

Trek nods and smiles, seeming pleased that finally someone needs to be taught. Dahlia tries to fight down a smile.

Adair glances at her. "So I guess you've been here before?"

Dahlia nods, and she can't fight the smile anymore. "Yeah. This is the third time. I think Trek- that's the guy's name- is tired of me. I always own him when I come over here."

Adair laughs. "I'm not surprised."

Dahlia studies him. She can't tell if that's supposed to be a compliment or not. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Adair shrugs. "You're pretty good at almost everything so far." He gives her a meaningful look. "Plus, you're from Eleven. This is pretty much what we were born for."

Dahlia laughs a little nervously. He has no idea how true that is, in her case. "Yeah, I guess."

They turn their attention on Barric. He's following Trek around, his expressions ranging from boredom to hopeless confusion. It's very easy for Dahlia to tell when he knows something, when he didn't know something before but gets it now, and when he doesn't have the slightest idea what Trek's talking about. It's sort of amusing, even if it makes sense.

He's from the grain district. He would know some of this stuff, of course, but definitely not all. Not the way Dahlia or Adair do, anyway.

When they finally get to the tests, Barric does ok. He gets a good portion of it right, but no where near the amount Dahlia or Adair got. Still, when he's done, Trek claps him on the back and congratulates him. Dahlia suspects he's only doing that because he's found someone in the group who can't outdo him at his own game. Barric manages a smile.

"Thanks, sir," he says.

"No problem. Feel free to come back. Any time!" He grins broadly, and now Dahlia's sure it's just because there's someone in this group who can't outdo him. She frowns. Trek's definitely not as nice as she originally thought. Not that it really matters. He's just a passing character in her life. Most likely, she'll never see him again (especially if she dies...but she tries to push that thought away. _Don't give up hope._ She has to remember that.)

Barric doesn't smile. "I might take you up on that."

The three of them start wandering around again. The rest of the day passes without much fanfare, but Dahlia's mind is on overdrive. She keeps thinking about her dream, and Slate, and camp, and Diamond and Mica. She can't stop.

Everyone obviously notices her distraction at dinner, but they don't comment on it. Instead, they decide to give up on asking her questions and rely on Adair.

After dinner, Dahlia can't sleep. After a while, she can't stand it. This is probably suicide, but she can't help it. She needs to think. She gets out of bed and heads up to the roof.

* * *

Dahlia stands at the edge of the roof, staring forlornly down at the colorful streets. Her hair whips in the wind. She looks around nervously. She really shouldn't be up here. The Careers are probably gonna be here any time. She'll have to deal with Slate again. Or worse...

Still, it's nice up here, even if it's loud. She can think more clearly outside, but not by much. She wishes she could be in the strawberry fields of Camp Half-Blood or the forest or somewhere with lots of greenery. Being in nature always makes her feel better, her mind clearer. This is the opposite of nature. There's not a tree or bush anywhere in sight. It makes her sick. They must've killed so many dryads to build this stupid city. This stupid, cruel city. This city that enjoys watching children and nature die in a million terrible ways.

She sinks to her knees and buries her face in her hands, suddenly overwhelmed. It's like all those deaths are stacked up on her shoulders. Fifty-two years of deaths... And for the fiftieth there were _twice_ the number there usually are. She remembers how sick she felt that year, watching all those names being called. One of her school friends had been called. She didn't come back, of course. Haymitch Abernathy won the Fiftieth Hunger Games. He didn't really kill that much- the arena did most of that for him, after all- but still. Dahlia bets he doesn't even feel any remorse. He's living the high life over in District Twelve's Victor's Village, while one of her old best friends is dead.

All those deaths... Dahlia tries to do the math in her head. Oh gods... 1,220 deaths already, and that number will only grow. And as much as she's trying to obey Hestia's orders and not lose hope, she can't help but think that her death will contribute too.

She discovers that she's crying. For all of those kids who died before her, because of the Hunger Games. For herself. For all the kids who will die after her. She just wants to go home. She doesn't want to deal with this. And she doubts any of the others (except the Careers, of course...) wanted this either.

She's always known that the Hunger Games are bad, but she'd kind of...grown to accept it. She knew it was unfair, what the Capitol did, punishing district kids for a war that happened way before any of them were born. But she knew she couldn't do anything about it, so she just suffered through this time of year just like everyone else, and tried to forget after it was all over.

But now it's different. Now she's _in _the Hunger Games. All of a sudden, she realizes how very selfish she's been. She's no better than any Capitol citizen.

That makes her mad. A white-hot rage builds up inside her, even as she cries. Suddenly she understands those whispers of rebellion. The Capitol is terrible, horrible, cruel. And, all of a sudden, she hates it. She hates this city with every fiber of her being, and especially its government.

Her emotions are a crazy mixture. Deep, incredible sadness and an anger so violent she feels like tearing down this city, piece by piece, with her own hands. Who cares about how much it'd hurt?

Suddenly, Chiron's voice is in her head, sadder than usual. _Luke was a good hero, Dahlia, but Kronos corrupted him. He promised Percy Jackson he would tear down Olympus brick by brick._

Dahlia had been appalled at the time, but she realizes that that's the same kind of thing she's thinking right now, and she's shocked.

But she has merit, right? The Capitol actually has been doing really, really terrible things to the districts. The gods didn't claim their kids, true, but at least they didn't toss them into a high-tech arena with all kinds of tricks specifically designed to give you a slow and painful death, for the enjoyment of the people on Olympus. By the gods, there's even a camp- _two_, actually, though Luke probably didn't know that at the time- designed to help you _avoid_ a slow and painful death.

She decides that, yes, she has merit. The anger has died down some, but it's still there. She's pretty sure it's not going away ever again. And she doesn't want it to. The Capitol deserves every bit of her hate, and then some.

Dahlia's suddenly aware of her surroundings again, and she realizes how dangerous this is. The Careers are coming. She needs to leaves. She gets to her feet, weighed down by all her realizations.

Just as she's about to step into the elevator, a voice behind her whispers, "Dahli."

She jumps and whirls, but doesn't see anything. If that's Slate...but no. The voice doesn't match. It's not as deep, or as raspy. Abruptly, she's annoyed.

"Adair, if that's you, this is _not_ funny. You're just putting yourself in danger. Just 'cause the Careers aren't allowed to hurt us yet doesn't mean they won't try anyway. I'm surprised you managed to get through yesterday night unscathed." Annoyance is charged in every word.

A soft chuckle sounds. "Wow, you seem to care about this Adair guy a lot." And the speaker steps out into view.

Dahlia gasps. "Mica?"

He grins at her, those familiar dark blue eyes flashing with amusement. His brown hair is maybe a little bit longer than the last time she saw him (in person, anyway), and it flops into his eyes.

"That's me."

"What are you doing here?" Dahlia demands, rushing forward and hugging him without warning.

He laughs and hugs her back, then pulls away. "I'm a Hermes kid, Dahli. I can break in anywhere."

"Where's Diamond?" Dahlia wonders if she might be dreaming. Mica is Mica, of course, but she's not sure being a Hermes kid is enough to break into the Training Center.

Mica's smile fades. "Not here. The thing is, _I _can break in anywhere, but she can't. She decided it'd be too dangerous for both of us to try. So we sent the one most likely to succeed. She told me to tell you she misses you."

"I miss her too," Dahlia whispers, her spirits falling. Even if this might be a dream, she wants to talk to Diamond.

Mica gives her a sad smile. "Sorry, Dahli."

"S'ok," Dahlia mutters.

Mica straightens. He looks her straight in the eye. "We're trying as hard as we can. We want to get you out, and I'm pretty sure we can. With time. But we don't have much left. You're going into the arena soon."

"I know," Dahlia murmurs. Then, more clearly, she asks, "Can't you just take me out right now?"

Mica shakes his head. "There're like forty guards outside. And security cameras. And other stuff, too. Even I had trouble getting past everything. With you, tonight, it'd be impossible. We need some master plan. Diamond's working on that."

"There's only two of you."

Mica gives a short, nervous laugh. "Yeah. That's one of the problems. Two against forty isn't great odds. And there might be more than forty. I didn't exactly waste time to count them. I had to get up to you."

Dahlia nods. "So how's it gonna work?"

Mica shrugs. "Like I said, Diamond's working on it." He hesitates a moment. "There's another huge problem. Your disappearance...well, it's not gonna go unnoticed, of course. Even if we _do_ get you out, every Peacekeeper in Panem will be looking for you the instant they find out you're gone. They might even postpone the Games for a while."

"I doubt that."

"Me too," Mica admits, "but still. We'd be in huge trouble. We might end up being caught and questioned. And we all know how dangerous that'd be. If they discover what we are..."

Dahlia nods. Of course. Saving her could jeopardize not only her life, but Diamond's, Mica's, and maybe even everyone at camp's. But when she looks into Mica's eyes, she can tell he's willing to do it. And Diamond must be too. The gratitude she feels for them is overwhelming.

They're willing to risk all of Camp Half-Blood for her. _Her._ This is what real friendship is.

But... Her feelings on the subject are mixed. She's shocked and happy that Mica and Diamond are willing to risk all that for her. And she wants to get away from all this so badly (no one wants to die, after all)...

But is she worth all that? Is she worth the lives of all her friends at camp and...maybe even her friends and family from _before_ camp? She doesn't think so. She's just one demigod, regardless of how important Hestia might have told her she was.

Besides, if they died, she would too, and that would defeat the whole purpose.

And then there's Barric and Adair. They'd think she abandoned them, or at least Adair would. And even if she and everyone else got out alive, _they'd_ die (or one of them could become the victor, she supposes, but even then one of them would end up dead), and she'd never be able to forgive herself for that. She'd feel like their death was her fault.

... She should tell Mica no. She should tell him to call it off, to get the heck out of there, and to never think of her again. She's not worth all that risk. But she's not sure he'd listen. And...she's not that brave. Saying something like that would take bravery worthy of the heroes from Chiron's stories. She's certain that Percy Jackson would say it without hesitation.

But she's not Percy Jackson. She's not brave enough to be the hero of some huge, world-saving prophecy. And she's pretty selfish, she has to admit.

She wants to live. But she also doesn't want to put all of her friends in danger. She takes in a huge breath, then lets it out slowly.

Mica's watching her carefully. Dahlia suddenly realizes that she's been silent for a long time.

"It's a huge risk, I know," he says cautiously, eyes never leaving her face. "But Diamond and I are willing to try. You know how good we are when we're all together. We could make it. We could avoid capture."

Dahlia takes another huge breath. As she lets it out, she murmurs, so softly there's no way he can hear, "Sure, but it'd be almost impossible."

She steels her nerves and straightens up. "I- Mica, you have no idea how much this means to me. That you would risk all that for me...that's amazing." She lets out another long breath. "But I... I'm not worth it, Mike."

He stares at her. "Yes, you are. Di and I both agree on that."

Of course they do. Dahlia takes a shaky breath. "Yeah, but...think." She wants to elaborate, but she can't bring herself to. She's afraid that if she tries too hard he might actually listen. And that makes her feel terrible, but she can't help it.

"We have. Why do you think Diamond's on my side?"

"Mica... I'm not worth it. If this messes up, I'll die anyway, along with you and Di and everyone and Camp Half-Blood." She suddenly realizes something, and her guilt deepens even more. "And maybe even Camp Jupiter. It'll...it'll be a genocide." _And I'll be responsible_, she almost adds, but Mica speaks before she can.

"That's the thing. It won't mess up."

Dahlia gives him an incredulous look. Now he's just trying to calm her down, she's sure. If he's really so sure it won't mess up, then why did he bother telling her the problems?

Maybe he just thinks they can overcome those. Still. He _has_ to have doubts.

Before she can voice these thoughts, though, a _ding_ sounds behind her. She whirls around. The elevator... Oh crap!

Mica grabs her arm and drags her into the shadows before the doors can open all the way.

They watch silently. Dahlia's heart is pounding, while Mica looks a little curious.

The Careers come spilling out of the elevator, and the light coming from inside, though dull, blinds Dahlia for a moment.

One of the girls, not District One, groans. "I don't see why we have to come up here every night. We've gone over Castle's plan a thousand times."

Mica glances at Dahlia. _Castle?_ he mouths.

Dahlia almost smiles. "One of the Careers," she mutters under her breath. "District One. You know they're weird with names."

Mica smiles a little and nods. They turn their attention back on the group.

"Castle wants to make sure we remember it." This voice sends a shiver down her spine. Slate. She'd recognize his voice anywhere, though she still wishes she could forget.

"Yeah, well-" the girl begins, but a booming voice cuts her off.

"That's right!" Castle himself steps up, and Dahlia tries not to flinch away. The guy is just so _huge_... She can't believe he's a kid. If she met him on the street, she would've thought he was like twenty-five. Or older.

Beside her, Mica's eyes widen, like he's having the same thought.

The girl sighs. "Whatever."

The group moves away from the elevator.

Dahlia lets out a breath of relief.

Mica mutters, "Those are the Careers this year? Man..."

Dahlia sighs. "Yeah, I know... We need to get out of here."

"I'm not objecting to that."

They both head toward the elevator, but before they can press the button, the elevator _ding_s again, softly, barely audible in the wind. Mica and Dahlia both lurch back into the shadows.

"More?" Mica mutters incredulously, but Dahlia thinks she knows who this is.

And she's right. Adair steps out nervously, but there's also someone else, who shocks Dahlia even more.

Barric stands in the doorway of the elevator, his hand keeping the door from closing.

"You sure this is a good idea?" he whispers.

Adair glances back at him. "I did it last night. Now close the door." He glances toward the Career pack. They haven't noticed yet. "They'll see the light..."

Barric hesitates, then nods and steps out into the open. The door slips closed, and suddenly it's hard for Dahlia to see.

She inches forward carefully, Mica reluctantly following.

"Where's Dahlia?" Barric's voice asks, and Mica tenses up.

"No idea. She's not in her room... Probably, she's up here. That's where she was last night."

"You guys sure do a lot of stuff without me."

"Like that's my fault?" Adair sounds annoyed, and Dahlia has to fight a smile.

"Yeah," Barric says. Dahlia can hear the smile in his voice.

"Really? Well, be happy I invited you for _this_, 'cause you're starting to make me regret it."

"_This_ is something that might get us all killed."

"There's no 'might' if you don't shut up."

Beside Dahlia, Mica is smiling. "Who?" he breathes.

"Adair and Barric," Dahlia whispers back. "My friends."

She creeps forward, toward the place she last heard Adair's voice.

"You are an idiot, Adair Labelle."

Adair whirls toward the sound. She can see his silhouette, a shadow on a shadow.

"Dahli?" he breathes.

"Who else? Go back down."

"_You're_ up here."

"That's different."

"Uh-huh."

She can feel Mica's eyes on her as she grabs Adair's arm. "This is dangerous. I can't believe you dragged Barric up here. You realize that they'll kill you if they find out you're here, right? They won't care about the rules."

"I did it last night."

"That had to be luck."

"Glad you have so much faith in me."

Barric's voice cuts through the darkness, quietly. "She has a point, Adair."

"You agreed to this."

"Yeah, but... I'm not so sure anymore."

"Scaredy cat."

Dahlia elbows Adair. "Two against one, Adair."

Adair sighs. "It'll be fine..." He ends the sentence with a yawn.

Dahlia grins. "You're tired."

"So? You probably are too."

"Not really. I've been busy."

"What, chatting it up with the Careers? And you say what _I'm _doing is dangerous."

"No." Dahlia hesitates. "I was thinking." There. That's true. And she kind of wishes it wasn't. Then she wouldn't feel so burdened.

"You were still up here."

"They haven't been here that long. I was about to leave."

Adair studies her, as best he can in the darkness. "Just a few minutes, please?"

"No. One of the girls said it was the same thing as last night anyway." Not like she has any clue what that was. She probably should've listened earlier, when Adair was filling them in.

Adair frowns. "But..."

"Just come on." Dahlia drags him over to the elevator.

"Dahli," Adair groans quietly. Dahlia ignores him and presses the down button.

She glances toward the shadows, where she knows Mica is. She thinks she can see him smiling.

She can't help but smile too, even though she's sad.

"Bye, Mike," she murmurs under her breath, too soft for Adair or Barric to hear. She tries not to feel like this is the last time she'll see Mica. It can't be, right? If the plan works... She shakes her head. Not now.

The doors ding open and she drags Adair in. Barric follows.

Once she finally gets down to her room, she collapses on her bed and falls asleep instantly. And of course has a nightmare.

* * *

_**A/N: This is random, but... I feel like my portrayal of Dahlia is inconsistent. Like, she has a different personality depending on who she's talking to or what kind of scene it is. Am I just insane? What do you guys think?**_


	21. Chapter 21

_**Disclaimer: I don't own The Hunger Games, Percy Jackson and the Olympians or Heroes of Olympus. They belong to their respective owners: Suzanne Collins and Rick Riordan.**_

* * *

Chapter Twenty-One

Dahlia snaps awake, gasping. It takes her a long time to calm down, to slow her breathing and rapid pulse. Finally, she manages it and sits up._  
_

The weight of everything that happened last night comes crashing down on her again, and she's tempted to just go back to sleep. But she can't. Especially since just as she has this thought, she hears Toni's heels clicking on the floor outside. Then a fist slams into the door three times, making the door shake.

"Come on, Dahlia," Toni's voice calls, her voice more subdued than usual. Dahlia can't help but notice that she finally has her name right.

"Coming," she calls, jumping out of bed. She pulls on the outfit waiting for her, runs a brush through her hair, and dashes outside.

Toni steps back when she comes out, and manages a smile.

Then, without a word, she turns and walks away. Dahlia follows hesitantly.

She sits down next to Adair and stares at her plate. It has food on it, which means that either someone filled it for her, or there's no buffet breakfast today. She glances toward the counter and decides against the second option. So who filled her plate, then? She glances over at Adair, who meets her eyes for a few seconds, then looks back down.

Dahlia hopes it was him, or Seeder. Or Toni. Or basically anyone who's not Chaff, because if it was him, he probably spiked it with some alcohol, just for the heck of it. She eyes the plate warily.

Adair glances over at her again and cracks a grin. "What's wrong?"

"Who filled this plate?"

"Seeder. Why?"

Dahlia let out a relieved breath. "No reason."

She carefully picks up her fork. Toni sits down on the other side of the table with a full plate. Next to her is Chaff and next to him is Seeder. Tarquin comes in and plops down one seat away from Dahlia, and Decia reluctantly sits in between the two of them.

The mood at the table is a little more somber.

Chaff looks sober for once. He leans forward and puts his...hand on the table, while the hand-less arm hangs next to him.

"We need to talk," he says. He meets Adair's eyes, then Dahlia's.

Adair and Dahlia put their forks down at the same moment.

"Ok," Adair says. "What's up?"

Dahlia glances at him. His expression seems to say that he's pretty sure where this conversation is going, just like Dahlia is. She thinks of her conversation with Mica last night, and how he said they didn't have much time left. And she suddenly realizes that she only has two more days till she has to go into the arena.

She supposes she probably knew that already, but she's been trying to ignore it and just enjoy what little time she has left. And the events of last night and the night before last have effectively distracted her.

She looks back at Chaff.

"You two are going into the Games in two days," he says. He winces slightly. "Today is the individual training sessions. Make sure they notice you." He looks at Adair. "You said you did pretty good at archery." He looks at Dahlia quizzically. "You...well, you can just do whatever, I guess. Do what you think is best."

Plants. That's Dahlia's first thought. But that won't leave much of an impression in the Gamemakers, she's sure. And she's sure that Trek would just _love _to see her again. If he's even there... He might not be. She's not sure. It's not like she's ever been able to watch the individual training sessions. They're one of the few parts of the Hunger Games that's private.

For all the talk of the survival stations being more important than the weapons, she knows that everyone usually bets on tributes with one of two things (or if they have both, then they're pretty much set): beauty and strength. If it isn't immediately obvious that you have one (or both) of these two things, then chances are you won't get many sponsors. Which is maybe why the survival skills _are_ important. The majority of tributes are malnourished, so of course they don't look particularly strong. That's part of the reason why Careers win most years. They get their hands on all the food they can, they have been trained for this since they were born, and they _look_ strong.

That's also the reason why the younger kids- twelve, thirteen, even Dahlia's own age, fourteen, sometimes- are usually dismissed as being real contenders. They just don't look like they can do much.

Some old saying pricks at the back of her mind. Something she and Diamond had laughed over one time. "Don't judge a book by its cover." Yeah, that's it. Too bad no one ever listens to that. Dahlia doubts that people listened to it a hundred years ago either, or even a thousand.

Dahlia frowns slightly. Which would be best for her? She did good on the knife-throwing station before, but she's pretty sure that was beginner's luck. Unfortunately, it's all she can think of.

Chaff's still talking. Dahlia tunes back in before she misses too much.

"...be going toward the end. Only District Twelve will be after you two."

Dahlia nods along with Adair, pretending like she knows what he's talking about. She thinks she does, but still.

Chaff pauses, and Seeder takes that opportunity to cut in. "Try to do as good as you possibly can. Get their attention. Be creative. You'll need it."

Chaff nods. "Yeah," he grunts.

The mentors look ready to say more, but just then Toni looks at the clock. "Time!" she yelps. "We need to go _now_."

So Dahlia and Adair are forced to grab a handful of food from their plates and follow her out. They eat it as quickly as they can.

They rush into the waiting room after everyone else is already there and receive a lot of stares and a few snickers. They ignore these and go sit down.

The trainer gives instructions, and the names start being called soon.

"Castle Limerick."

Dahlia almost laughs out loud. _That's_ his last name? Thanks to Diamond and Chiron, she knows a lot of words, and she knows that anything having to do with the word "humorous" doesn't match Castle. At all.

But she manages not to laugh. She manages to keep a straight face. She doesn't want him to kill her before her time, of course.

He gets up, sends a withering glare out to everyone in the room (probably just because he can), and heads into the training room.

And so the wait begins. Name after name is called, and it slowly inches closer and closer to District Eleven. Very, very slowly.

Dahlia is glad she's from Eleven, though, and not Twelve. The wait is even longer for them. She's not sure she'd be able to stand it. Heck, she's not sure she'll be able to stand _this_.

She drums her fingers on the table impatiently, trying to think of some kind of plan for her training session. All around her, people are talking in soft, nervous voices. She can't make out the words, but it fills the air with a nervous hum.

She watches the people leaving, the doors opening and closing, and finds herself thinking about camp again, and Diamond and Mica's plan. She still can't decide whether she wants them to go through with it, but she figures her opinion doesn't matter. If Diamond thinks up a perfect plan in time, then they're going to try it. Dahlia is sure of that.

She tries to focus back on the matter at hand when a hand touches her shoulder. She jumps, startled, and glances over. It's Adair.

"What is it?" she asks, ignoring the slight smirk on his face. He slips his hand off her shoulder.

"Are you ok?"

"Fine," Dahlia mutters. She glances toward the doors again. Someone- the girl from Four- is getting up and heading for the doors, which are slowly opening.

"You sure?"

"Yeah." She pauses. "Are _you_ ok?"

The amusement in his eyes slips away and reveals his terror. He masks it quickly, but it doesn't escape Dahlia's notice.

"I'm terrified," he says, keeping his voice carefully light. Dahlia thinks she hears a slight tremor in it.

"It'll be ok," she says softly.

He looks at her, unconvinced. "Ok."

Dahlia gives him a weak smile. Then they lapse into silence again.

The wait seems like forever. Person after person leaves. They don't come back.

"Adair Labelle."

Dahlia looks up at him as he gets up. He glances down at her nervously, and she gives him a reassuring smile. He doesn't smile back, just looks away and walks toward the doors. They open slowly, he steps through them, and they swallow him up like the mouth of an enormous monster.

Dahlia exchanges a nervous look with the District Twelve kids (the only ones still in the room with her, of course), then turns back to the doors.

It feels like hours before her name is called, though of course she knows it's probably only about thirty minutes.

She gets up carefully, feeling the Twelve kids' eyes on her. She moves toward the doors, back straight, face devoid of emotion. As she passes through the doorway, a shiver goes through her, and she suddenly wonders if maybe these doors really _are_ some giant monster's mouth. She has the urge to turn around and dart for the opposite exit, just so she can get away from all this. But she doesn't. She just stands even straighter, takes a deep breath, and forces herself to keep going.

The doors close behind her, and she's standing in the training room. The Gamemakers are off to one side. She takes a moment to study them. Most aren't even looking at her, though two of them glance over when the door closes. One of those two looks away immediately, but the other keeps his eyes trained on Dahlia.

He makes her uncomfortable. She takes a deep breath and heads for the knife-throwing station as if she has an idea of what she's doing, which she doesn't.

Just before she picks up a knife, a voice echoes across the room, making her jump and whirl.

"State your name."

She frowns. They don't know. Oh well. She takes a deep breath.

"Dahlia Okelley," she calls back. "From C- District Eleven."

She almost said "Camp Half-Blood." _Careful, Dahlia. _She can't let the homesickness get to her.

The man nods. A few of the other Gamemakers are watching now, making her feel even more awkward. She spins back around on her heel, ignoring them as best she can, and picks up a knife.

This is going to fail, and she's going to get a three on training. These are the kinds of thoughts running through her head as she aims.

Sure, she's been practicing, and besides edible plants, this is probably her best station, but still.

She tosses and can't hold in her gasp when the knife slams into the bull's-eye. Wait, what? How'd that happen?

A single clap echoes from the Gamemakers' station. She glances their way, and finds only two or three of them are watching her. The rest are occupied by whatever food is on their plates. Speaking of, she hasn't had lunch yet...but she can't think of that right now. She grabs another knife off the table and turns toward a different target.

This one doesn't hit the bull's-eye, but right next to it. About half an inch to the right and it'd be dead on. Dahlia stares at it. Then a slow grin appears on her face. She grabs another knife and throws it. Bull's-eye. She nearly laughs, but then remembers that she's not alone. She grabs another knife, whirls, and throws. Bull's-eye again.

After a while of this, the booming voice makes her jump again. "Thank you. You may leave."

Dahlia nods, a little disappointed. She sets her knife down, then gathers the ones from the targets, puts them back, and leaves.

That was fun. It's the first thing she thinks as she walks down the hall, toward the elevator.

* * *

_**A/N: And that's a wrap. Hope you liked it. See you guys next time.**_


	22. Chapter 22

_**Disclaimer: I don't own The Hunger Games, Percy Jackson and the Olympians or Heroes of Olympus. They belong to their respective owners: Suzanne Collins and Rick Riordan.**_

* * *

Chapter Twenty-Two

Later that night, she's gathered in the living room with the rest of the District Eleven team. They're all lounging around, their eyes locked on the screen, waiting for the scores. Dahlia's almost dreading the results. But she also can't run away screaming, so she just stays.

A million worries zip through her mind. What if they didn't like her? Did she even do anything that cool? Sure, _she_ thought the knife thing was cool, but that doesn't mean the Gamemakers did. What if she ends up beng the first person to ever get a one for a score? What if, what if, what if.

She shakes her head, trying to calm herself. Whatever happens happens, and she can't change that.

She tries to focus on something else. Adair and Chaff are huddled around the armchair, talking in excited, though hushed, tones. Dahlia wonders vaguely what they're talking about. Probably some kind of amazing stunt Adair pulled in the training room. Because of course Chaff and Seeder and everyone else grilled the two of them for information the moment they first saw them. No one but Seeder seemed to be at all impressed by Dahlia's story, but Adair they dragged aside almost instantly. Dahlia still has no clue what happened with him. But she doesn't care enough to ask.

The screen flickers on, and the announcements begin.

Castle gets a high score, of course, and so do the other Careers. All except one. A girl named Anona, from Two. She gets a five. The entire room gasps at that.

"Her?" Adair mutters. "But... She was so strong in training..."

"Maybe it's a trick," Dahlia replies with a shrug.

"Maybe..." Everyone turns back to the screen.

More districts, more scores, until finally they get to Eleven.

"Adair Labelle, District Eleven, with a score of...nine."

_"Nine?"_ Dahlia asks. Adair just shrugs, giving her a smug smile. Everyone else is hiding smiles.

"-elley, also District Eleven." Dahlia snaps back to attention, her eyes slipping immediately from Adair's face back to the screens. She sits up a bit straighter.

"With a score of eight."

A breath of air Dahlia hadn't realized she was holding escapes her lips in a soft hiss, and her eyes drop to the floor. At least she got a reasonably good score. One below Adair. She's sure she'll never hear the end of that.

She's also sure that no one will consider her a real contender. Ever.

"That's not bad, Dahlia," Seeder says.

"I know." Dahlia looks up at her. She puts her hand on Dahlia's shoulder.

Dahlia manages a smile and looks over at Chaff and Adair. Chaff claps Adair on the shoulder and laughs. "Well done, Adair."

Adair smiles. His eyes flicker over to Dahlia's face. She looks away quickly, back to the now-dark screen. She's missed District Twelve's scores.

Usually, though, they're not interesting. Non-Careers rarely win the Games, after all. _Including Eleven's tributes._ Dahlia sighs and pushes that thought from her mind.

People around Dahlia keep talking, but it's just a faint hum in her ears. She stays silent, for who-knows-how-long. At least as long as it takes for Toni to get bored and exclaim, "Well! It's time to go to sleep, all! We've got a big day tomorrow."

And with that, she gets up and leaves the room. Slowly, the rest of the group trickles away. After Toni, Dahlia is the first to leave. She hurries to her room, changes quickly, then flops down on the bed and stares up at the ceiling. She doesn't want to fall asleep. The last thing she wants is more dreams.

She doesn't want tomorrow to come either. Tomorrow is the last day before she gets shoved into the Games, with all its traps, all its thousands of ways to kill her. If they wanted to, the Gamemakers could kill every last one of the tributes within seconds of rising into the arena.

Her death is practically inevitable..._unless Mica and Diamond succeed._

That thought brings on another round of the familiar guilt and hope and fear, and she shoves it out of her mind.

Then she crawls under the covers and closes her eyes. Sleep comes too fast.

* * *

_**A/N: I know I've been gone for a long time, and this is a really bad chapter to make up for it, but I hope you like it anyway. **_

_**Thanks for reading and reviewing, everyone. It means a lot to me. I hope you guys will keep sticking with me throughout this. **_

_**Till next time. Bye.**_


	23. Chapter 23

_**Disclaimer: I don't own The Hunger Games, Percy Jackson and the Olympians or Heroes of Olympus. They belong to their respective owners: Suzanne Collins and Rick Riordan.**_

* * *

Chapter Twenty-Three

The next day, Dahlia stands shrouded in a thin robe, surrounded once again by her prep team. She's not especially glad to be there again. Especially since they turn her body into a raw, tingling mass again. At least this time they won't make her squeaky clean only to shove her into a nasty costume of dirt and leaves.

Then a shiver runs through her. _Maybe they will._ Gods, she hopes not.

Surely Tarquin has a better imagination than that. Maybe he'll keep with the "invisible" thing and figure out a way to make her look like a beam of light from one of the stage's spotlights. That would be cool.

But probably impossible.

Dahlia's prep team is muttering to themselves, circling her.

"What are you doing?" she demands after a few minutes of this.

"Hush!" Antonius snaps. So she shuts up, sighing heavily.

After a few more minutes of circling, Aelia nods to Alba and Antonius. "I think she's good. Call Tarquin."

Of course. Alba and Antonius do as they're told.

And a few minutes later Tarquin appears. He shuts the doors behind him and stares across at Dahlia.

"Robe off," he commands, and Dahlia hurries to obey.

He circles her once, then nods. "Good. Get the dress."

Dahlia almost cries out with joy at the word "dress". She's not wearing a mud puddle!

Tarquin orders her to close her eyes. She obeys, and a few moments later, something slides down over her head. Something heavy and smooth that seems to cover every inch of her body from the neck down.

Dahlia forwns. Tarquin tells her to open her eyes. She does, and when she sees her reflection in the mirror, she gasps.

She _has_ no body. At least she can't see one in the mirror. In the mirror, all she is is a neck, a head, and two hands floating in midair, with blond hair draped across nonexistant shoulders.

"How...?" Her voice fades.

Antonius, standing behind her in the reflection, grins. "It's the fabric. It's like a chameleon, specially designed to blend with whatever's behind it. Also a bit like a mirror, I suppose."

Dahlia nods, dazed. She reaches down and grips the fabric, a little shocked to discover there actually _is_ fabric there, and lifts it up a little, still watching her reflection. In the mirror, her toes appear, and the little crinkles in the fabric make the world behind her ripple and blur.

"Wow," she mutters.

"Careful," Tarquin's voice calls out. "It only works perfectly when you're still. Otherwise, the fabric won't be able to pick up the background perfectly, and that"- he gestures to the blur in the fabric- "will happen."

"How did you do this?" Dahlia drops the fabric, and after a moment, the illusion of nothingness returns.

Tarquin shrugs. "It's a prototype. I got special permission to test it out on you."

"So... I'm a test subject?"

Antonius jumps in. "Well, you and Adair. Yours is just more complete than his."

"What?"

"You'll see." Tarquin waves at Aelia, who runs to a cabinet and pulls something out.

She comes over to Dahlia and offers her the things. They're gloves, made of the same fabric, but Aelia's hands are shaking with excitement, so it's easy to see them. Dahlia reaches for them and carefully pulls them on, having trouble getting her fingers in the right places. More than usual, anyway. It's a lot harder to do such things properly when you can only sort of see the gloves.

Once she's done, she looks up. "What about shoes?"

"You're not wearing them," Antonius says.

"Really?"

Her prep team nods, and Dahlia hides a smile.

"Come on," Tarquin says gruffly. "We still have to do your hair and makeup."

What they do isn't really doing someone's hair. They simply pull Dahlia's hair back into a high ponytail. And as for makeup, they stick to the bare minimum, with barely noticable neutral tones and the faintest bit of pink blush on her cheeks.

She realizes that must be the point. She's supposed to be invisible, after all. So she should be as normal-looking as possible.

Or maybe they think she's pretty enough that she doesn't really need dramatic changes. She kind of hopes that's it.

As a finishing touch, Tarquin sticks a pencil behind her ear.

"What-?" she starts, but Tarquin's look shuts her up.

"Let's go," he says.

She nods and follows her prep team and stylist out of the room.

* * *

Later on, she's on the stage, in between the boy from Ten and Adair, who is dressed in clothes made of the same fabric as her dress. His feet are visible, unlike hers, though made as unnoticable as possible with a pair of sneakers that exactly match the stage floor. Maybe they couldn't figure out a way to make shoes out of the camouflage fabric. That would also explain why she's not wearing any shoes.

Their fellow tributes are staring at them in a comical mixture of awe, envy and hatred. But for the moment, the audience's attention is locked on the tribute being interviewed right now. The girl from One.

She seems to be going the "mean girl" route. It works for her, with her scary looks and huge frame. She wears ripped-up cargo pants, ratty sneakers, and a green tank top. Dahlia wonders if maybe those items come straight from her own closet. She wouldn't be surprised.

The girl keeps her feet propped up throughout the entire interview, and keeps a bored look on her face, like _I have _way _better things to do than this._ Occasionally, though, she'll glare at the white-haired Caesar Flickerman, and all her answers come out snappy, like she's annoyed. The audience eats it up.

Dahlia has to admit the girl's a good actress... Or maybe she isn't acting. Dahlia wouldn't be surprised if that were true, either.

Castle is intimidating. He's dressed in a simple black suit, neat and tidy, the exact opposite of the girl. But even with that, his huge frame and commanding tone make it obvious exactly what kind of person he is.

When Anona comes up, after Castle, Dahlia leans forward a little, studying the girl with interest. This is the Career who got a five in training, and Dahlia wants to know how.

The girl is wearing a shimmering knee-length silver dress and m,atching heels. As she walks toward Caesar Flickerman, she can only be described as "timid". Her eyes never waver from her shoes until she sits, then they slowly travel to Caesar's face.

He gives her a kind smile. "Welcome, Anona."

She nods once. "Hi."

His smile widens a little, and he launches right into the questioning. Naturally, one of the first ones concerns her five in training.

When he asks about it, Anona just shrugs, staring straight at him. "I guess I just had a bad day. I'm not supposed to talk about it."

Caesar looks disappointed, but he quickly continues.

Dahlia's disappointed, too, but she knows the rules. She'll probably never find out what happened in that training room.

She studies Anona more closely. The girl's eyes never leave Caesar's face, and fear flickers in her eyes. But she seems strangely at ease. Her voice is clear as she answers the questions. She's a mystery, and a quick glance at the audience proves to Dahlia that they're sufficiently intrigued.

She decides the five must've been purposeful. A way to draw even more attention to her than normal. It's a publicity stunt, to rope in more sponsors.

Dahlia can't imagine why Anona would need them, though. Careers always get most of the stuff. Why would she need even more, when she'll already have enough supplies to last months.

This just makes Anona even more mysterious.

Slate, of course, comes after Anona, and Dahlia tries to shut out his voice as he answers Caesar's questions.

He seems to be playing sly and intelligent, with a little dash of mocking. It definitely suits him.

Slate keeps glancing over at the other tributes (and maybe it's Dahlia's imagination, but it always seems like he's looking straight at _her_ every time) with a look of contempt on his face.

Needless to say, Dahlia is glad when his interview is over.

The interviews seem to go much quicker after that, until they finally get to Nine. Barric rises from his seat with that uncanny grace of his and walks over to Caesar. His golden hair is a little messy, his suit gold silk, shining in the spotlights. It's almost blinding to just look at him, and Dahlia can't help but think that he looks more amazing than she's ever seen him.

Caesar compliments him as soon as he sits down, and a nervous-looking Barric nods his thanks.

Barric doesn't really act much. He just acts like himself, letting his nerves drive him. The audience seems to be too busy staring at him to pay much attention to what he says. Dahlia smiles. She knows the feeling.

That must've been the point, with the overwhelming outfit. It was designed to distract the audience from Barric's true nature, playing up how attractive he is more than he ever could. And it works. Dahlia is sure that if Barric were just sitting there, not saying a word, he'd still be getting more sponsors with every second that passed.

When the interview is over, Dahlia can tell that he's relieved. He walks back to his seat, not seeming to notice all the eyes that follow him.

Two more interviews pass, and then it's finally Dahlia's turn.


	24. Chapter 24

_**Disclaimer: I don't own The Hunger Games, Percy Jackson and the Olympians or Heroes of Olympus. They belong to their respective owners: Suzanne Collins and Rick Riordan.**_

* * *

Chapter Twenty-Four

Dahlia freezes for a moment. Then she pulls out her brightest smile and rises. She ignores the gasps as she makes her way across to Caesar and sits down.

But she can't ignore his open stare, which he swiftly recovers from.

"Dahlia Okelley. You look...beautiful." It's almost a question. But she's surprised him, at least. That takes a lot.

Dahlia hides a smile. "Thanks," she says calmly. She glances up at the stylists and finds Tarquin. His face is emotionless, as usual, but she thinks she sees his lips twitching upwards.

"How exactly did you get that dress of yours?"

Dahlia looks down at herself, then back up at him. She shrugs. "I'm not sure. But my stylist said it took a lot to get it."

Caesar smiles. "Then you're a lucky girl."

"Yeah." Dahlia tries not to let any bitterness show. _Sure, I'm a lucky girl. That's why I'm going into the arena tomorrow morning._ "I am."

Caesar either doesn't notice or pretends not to. He leans forward. "You made quite an impression on us during the parade. May I ask, what were you thinking then? I know I was shocked."

Dahlia smiles. "I was worried." She hesitates, wondering if she should add more. "I mean, my stylist just covered me in glue and dirt. It was really uncomfortable. And I figured it'd be pointless, since I'd just be invisible."

Caesar smiles too. "It seems like that might've been the point." His eyes are on Dahlia's invisible body.

"Probably," she agrees, still smiling.

Caesar's eyes flicker back up to Dahlia's face. "You got an eight in training. Do you think that fits, or should you have gotten more?"

Dahlia purses her lips. She hadn't expected this question. "Well..." She bites her lip, looks down, and finally decides to go with the truth. "Honestly, I think I should've gotten worse than that."

Caesar laughs. "I doubt that. You seem plenty skilled."

_Which is why I got an eight_, Dahlia thinks but she doesn't say that. She just shrugs. "I guess."

Caesar opens his mouth to ask another question, but the bell rings to signal the end of Dahlia's interview. She smiles and rises, knowing that nothing she said was the least bit interesting, even to a crowd of Capitolites. The only thing that might've gained her any more sponsors is the fact that her dress makes it seem like she's just a floating head.

Tarquin must've known from the moment he saw her that she was an utterly uninteresting person (outside of being a demigod, of course, but he doesn't know about that), and the "Invisa-girl" thing is a way to both play on that and draw more attention to Dahlia at the same time.

Adair gives her a smug look as he gets up and she sits down. The gasps for him are just as loud as they were as Dahlia walked to the chair.

"Adair Labelle!" Caesar stands and holds out his hand, which Adair shakes quickly, then sits. Caesar sits too, then leans forward.

"So, Mr. Labelle-"

"Adair."

"So, Adair, you made a nine. How'd you manage it?"

"Raw talent." Adair grins. "I'm a lot fiercer than I look, you know."

Dahlia can't help but snicker. She doesn't have any more idea how Adair got that nine than the next guy, but Adair is not fierce. Annoying, yes, but fierce? Maybe if kittens could be called that.

Adair hears that. He shoots a glare over at her, and she smiles pleasantly back at him.

Caesar doesn't miss this exchange. "It seems like you and your District partner have an interesting relationship."

Adair waves him off. "Dahlia? Oh, that's nothing. We used to know each other back in school. I may have teased her a bit."

"I don't doubt it." Caesar glances over at Dahlia.

They talk about Dahlia for a little longer, drawing laughter from the audience once or twice, and then Caesar moves on to other topics.

By the time Adair's bell rings, Dahlia's sure he's done about five times better than she ever did in her interview.

He sits down, the girl from Twelve gets up, and Dahlia rams her shoulder into him, hard.

He yelps, "Hey!" as he topples over. Then he sits up again and shoves Dahlia into the boy from Ten, who glares at them.

"Stop messing around!" he hisses.

"Sorry," Dahlia mutters. Then Adair shoves her again, and she snaps, "Adair!"

"What?" His hand is on Dahlia's arm, and he's smiling innocently at her.

"Stop."

"You started it."

"You deserved it."

"Why? Because you suck at interviews, and I did better than you?"

"Shh!" the boy from Ten shushes. "You're causing a scene!"

Dahlia and Adair both glance toward the audience, and find that, yes, a lot of people are looking at them rather than the girl from District Twelve and Caesar. Instantly, they both sit up straighter and shut up. They keep glaring at each other, though.

After the interviews, their team congratulates them (Adair more than her, Dahlia notices with some jealousy).

Seeder gives her a reassuring smile and says, "I think you did great, Dahlia."

"Thanks." Dahlia manages a smile. She didn't do great. She knows that. She finds herself wishing that Diamond and Mica succeed. Then she feels guilty for thinking that.

She gets up to her room and jumps into the shower, letting all her worries wash away with the hot water. And when she climbs into bed that night, she feels reinvigorated.

But once she falls asleep, her nightmares are horrible.

* * *

**_A/N: So...long time no see. I hope you like this chapter. It was extremely hard to write, and I'm not completely sure why. Please review! :)_**


	25. Chapter 25

_**Disclaimer: I don't own The Hunger Games, Percy Jackson and the Olympians or Heroes of Olympus. They belong to their respective owners: Suzanne Collins and Rick Riordan.**_

* * *

Chapter Twenty-Five

Dahlia is running. She's not sure where through. The image around her keeps shifting, from woods to ruins to desert and so on. She doesn't know what her arena will look like, after all. But she does know that this is the arena. And she knows she's being chased. Maybe by Slate. Or the gigantic Castle. She's not sure which one would be more terrifying.

She has a backpack over her shoulder and a knife in her hand- maybe not the best move, now that she thinks of it, but she needs to have something to defend herself.

The cameras on her are like beady little eyes. She can practically feel them recording her, displaying her on giant screens for all the world to see. It's awful.

She trips over something and goes sprawling on a ground that's constantly changing and yet remains solid. She pushes herself to her hands and knees, but when she tries to stand, pain shoots through her right ankle, and she almost falls down again. In bewilderment, she looks down at it, trying not to curse or cry out.

_It must be sprained._ Dahlia forces herself to keep going, shambling painfully along as she rummages in her backpack. Surely she has something she can use to fix her ankle. All she gets is a plastic baggy of nuts and berries, an extra knife, a half-empty canteen for water, and a piece of cloth that seems to be about useless.

If only she had medicine. Or ambrosia or nectar. But of course she wouldn't find those here. It's a mortal game after all. Mortals don't know about ambrosia and nectar. They can't use it, anyway.

Dahlia curses very softly in Ancient Greek. No need for Capitolites to find out she can speak a really, really, really long-dead language. Might raise suspicion.

She's going too slow. She can almost feel her chasers gaining. Ignoring the pain as best she can, she forces herself to go faster as she zips up her backpack. Her knife is still clutched in her hand, which surprises her. She's lucky that it didn't go flying off into this weird shape-shifting world around her after she fell. Or that she didn't stab herself in the nose or somewhere worse. At least she only has a sprained ankle, however troublesome it may be.

Dahlia hobbles on, as fast as she can, almost biting her tongue off to keep from crying out. The pain makes her clumsy. She spends the majority of her time stumbling over things, then catching herself and pushing on. And she can't go nearly as fast as before. Soon she hears the pounding of footsteps behind her, proof that she's running out of time. She looks around her in desperation. She dodges into the trees as, for one second, the shifting image changes to woods, but in the next second it's an endless, treeless grassland, stretching out for as far as the eye can see. Then it's a desert. And it just keeps changing: a different climate, a different time, a different place every second. It makes Dahlia want to scream. She's grateful that in the _real_ arena it won't be like this. She hopes.

So using her surroundings is out. That's for sure. She keeps running, as best she can.

Then the arrow catches her in the back of the left thigh. The pain is sharp and sudden, and Dahlia can't hold back a scream. Her legs collapse underneath her.

"No," she whispers from her place on the ground.

Both her legs are pretty much useless now, but she manages to roll over and sit up, holding her knife out shakily in warning. Her ankle and leg are screaming in pain, making it near impossible to focus, but she throws her knife, and a second later hears the grunt of pain that shows its hit someone.

Then that someone is in front of her. He has a bow in his hand, an arrow notched. There's a cut on his leg, presumably from Dahlia's knife, but the knife itself is nowhere to be seen.

Fearfully, Dahlia's eyes raise to the boy's face, and it's not Slate. It's not Castle. Suddenly, she realizes that the most terrifying way for her to die is not by either of their hands.

Because they're definitely not her friends.

But this is. And he terrifies Dahlia.

Adair Labelle, her own district partner, stands over her, an arrow aimed straight at her. Her heart is almost pounding out of her chest, so loud she's sure he can hear it, practically telling him, _I'm right here! Please feel free to shoot me now!_

The look in Adair's brown eyes is so angry, so full of hatred and bitterness. Dahlia doesn't understand it. Why does he look like that?

"Adair?" She can hear the shock in her voice. His eyes tighten.

"Dahlia." His voice is seething with anger.

She tries to say something else, ask what's wrong with him, beg for mercy, _anything_, but then he lets the arrow fly.

She wakes up screaming just before it pierces her heart.

For a moment, Dahlia doesn't know where she is. All she sees is dark. All she can hear is her racing heart, wildly pounding in her ears, and her breath, racing almost as fast as her heart.

Then she forces herself to relax, tries to control her ragged breathing. She hopes she didn't wake anyone up with her screaming.

The memory of Adair's angry eyes is burned into her mind. Why did he look like that?

_It was a dream_, she tells herself. Of course, for demigods, that doesn't really mean much. But she can't believe this will really come to pass. Adair would never do that to her. She's sure of it. He's annoying, but he's not like that. It was just her subconscious, conjuring up things to scare the life out of her on the day she goes into the arena.

Oh crap...this is the day she goes into the arena.

A knock sounds on the door, interrupting her thoughts.

A boy's voice calls, "Dahli?"

_Adair._ A shiver of fear rushes through her, irrational but very real. She forces it down and slowly crawls out of bed.

"Yeah?" she calls, making her way toward the door.

"Are you okay?"

Dahlia places her hand on the doorknob and contemplates that question. Is anyone okay after they've had an awful nightmare like hers, and on top of that they're about to get sent into an arena that might very likely be the last place they ever see? She doesn't think so.

"I'm fine." She twists the knob and pulls the door open.

She tries not to smile at the sight of Adair. His black hair is disheveled, his eyes glimmering with worry and exhaustion. There are faint blue circles under his eyes, so Dahlia assumes he hasn't had the best of nights, either.

"You were screaming," he says.

She winces. "Bad dreams." She hesitates. "Sorry if I woke you."

He waves her off. "No. I couldn't sleep anyway."

_I know the feeling_, Dahlia thinks. "Oh" is all she says.

Adair opens his mouth to say something else, but before he can, the hallway behind him bursts into action. Red lights flash and alarms blare, and Dahlia gasps. _Mica and Diamond._ She forgot all about the escape plan in the wake of her dream, but now it comes flooding into her mind again.

The alarms can mean only one thing: Diamond and Mica have been spotted. They might have even been caught.

"What's going on?" Adair looks bewildered.

"I don't know," Dahlia lies.

She pushes him aside and steps out into the hall next to him, closing the door firmly behind her. "But it can't be good."

"Maybe we shouldn't be-" A door slams open farther down the hall, cutting him off.

Toni bursts out and comes barreling toward them. She stops in front of them.

"Come on." She grabs both their arms and drags them back the way she came.

"Where are we going?" Adair demands, asking the exact same question Dahlia was about to ask.

"Somewhere safe," Toni replies. "The Training Center's been breached. The guards gave us orders to get all the tributes to the roof."

"Why the roof?" Dahlia's afraid she knows the answer, but she asks anyway.

Toni gives her a weak smile. "It seems you'll be heading for the arena a bit early."

_No._

Dahlia hears doors slamming behind her, and the elevator is going crazy. They ride up to the roof with the District Ten team and an escort Dahlia remembers from District Seven's reaping. That boy from Ten gives Dahlia and Adair the evil eye the entire way up. Apparently he hasn't forgiven them for that little mishap during the interviews. That incident seems so small to Dahlia now, compared with all the other things that have happened since then.

The elevator lets them out onto the roof, and Dahlia considers jumping back into the elevator and getting out of there, but no. The elevator's constantly going up and down. It'd take forever for her to finally get down to the first floor. And she might not even be able to find Diamond and Mica. Besides, a lot of people's eyes are on her, and Toni's grip in incredibly strong as she drags Dahlia and Adair toward the waiting hovercraft.

Adair looks scared and confused in equal measure. Dahlia looks around the roof and spots Barric's golden hair about ten feet away. She wishes she could go to him. She wishes she could run to the elevator. She wishes she could go anywhere but that dreaded hovercraft.

But they get to the rope ladder anyway. Toni gives Dahlia one last smile, then shoves her toward it.

"Good luck," she says.

Dahlia doesn't have much choice but to grab the rope ladder. Instantly, she's paralyzed and the ladder is lifted into the hovercraft. Once inside, she can move again, and she stands in the middle of the craft, wishing that there was a way out of this. But there isn't. Not anymore.

_Hunger Games here I come._


	26. Chapter 26

_**Disclaimer: I don't own The Hunger Games, Percy Jackson and the Olympians or Heroes of Olympus. They belong to their respective owners: Suzanne Collins and Rick Riordan.**_

* * *

Chapter Twenty-Six

Dahlia has to spend the night under the arena. The smell of the wood all around her lingers in her nose, an incessant reminder of where she is. Tomorrow morning she'll be shoved onto that metal platform in the corner and sent up to face whatever horrors await her in the world above.

She doubts she'll be able to sleep tonight.

All she can think about is the Games, and Diamond and Mica. What happened to them? What's going to happen to her? Are any of them going to be okay? Dahlia isn't sure of anything anymore.

She wishes she could be back at camp, gardening, teasing her siblings, riding pegasi, and doing all those other things she thought would never disappear. All those things that she'd done so often she'd actually gotten a little bit bored of them.

_Please_, she prayed, not really to any god in particular. _Please, I'd do anything to get back to that life. Just get me out of here._ She figures pleading with the gods won't do much good, but it's all she's got right now. That and a cold, dark, empty room that she has no chance of getting out of. She closes her eyes against it, but sleep won't come.

She gets up and paces around the room, restless. All around her, the silence is deafening. She wishes she could talk to someone- anyone. Even Toni or Chaff would be a sight for sore eyes right now.

She makes six laps around the room before folding herself on the couch again. Dahlia just wants to go home. To her dad or to Chiron, who became a kind of father over the last two years, it doesn't really matter to Dahlia. She just wants out of here.

She closes her eyes against the room again, trying to clear her mind of her worries. When that doesn't work, she forces herself to look at the practical side of her worries. She's worried she'll die tomorrow. She's worried something like her dream about Adair will come true. She's worried about a billion different things.

But the thing is, all of those terrible possiblities for tomorrow mean that she'll need her sleep more than she's ever needed it before in her life. And she's going to make herself get it, somehow.

She focuses on her memories, the great times she had at camp, and even the times before camp, with her friends and her dad.

She isn't exactly sure when the memories change to dreams, but sooner or later they fade to a different dream.

Dahlia is standing on the top floor of a crumbling building, looking out a hole in the wall- it probably used to have glass in it- that gives a view of a huge square overgrown with weeds. In the center stands a gleaming cornucopia, completely empty. A circle of platforms- the ones the tributes stand on in the beginning- lay around it. The sky is dark, full of stars.

Dahlia doesn't know why she's here. She just stands there, staring down into the square. Her eyes are fixed on the cornucopia.

Her body feels strange, too thin, and she's tired and thirsty. The bag on her shoulder is heavy and the clothes on her back lightweight. She doesn't feel like herself.

"Hello, Dahlia," someone behind her says, and Dahlia whirls around, a knife appearing in her hand. She didn't even notice grabbing it.

She finds herself primed to toss a dagger straight into the chest of the god Hermes, complete with his snakey caduceus and winged shoes. He's dressed in his traditional white robes, and has a tan messenger bag over his shoulder. Dahlia's knife clatters to the floor.

"Lord Hermes. Oh gods, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean-"

"Don't worry about it," Hermes interrupts. "It's only natural here."

Here. _The Hunger Games._

A long pause stretches between them as Hermes gazes sadly over the square.

"Why are you here?" Dahlia finally asks.

Hermes snaps out of his trance. He takes a deep breath, as if preparing himself. "A message. I need to give you a message."

"Okay," Dahlia says slowly. "What is it? I thought the gods didn't send messages anymore."

"Special circumstances," Hermes says. "Your mother insisted. She can be very persuasive when she wants to be." He sounds kind of amused and frightened at the same time.

Dahlia doesn't really care about that. "So what's the message?"

Hermes looks incredibly sad as he studies her. "You're one of the most important demigods of your time," he says, "and so I want you to look around."

She does, and frowns. "It's a ruined building."

"Look outside." Hermes sounds a little bit annoyed now.

Dahlia does. "It's the cornucopia. So? It's just a..."

_Dream. But Hermes is here, so that means..._ Dahlia whirls around.

"Wait, is this the arena? _My_ arena?"

"Now you're getting it."

Dahlia whirls back around and leans against the windowsill, watching the courtyard below. _No_, she thinks. _Buildings. It's buildings. It's ruins. I can't deal with ruins. Why can't they have trees, like normal? I'm the daughter of _Demeter_, for crying out loud. _

"Oh, don't worry," Hermes says, making her jump. "They'll have plants around here somewhere. They always do."

"Great."

"But that's not all. You have a huge part to play in the next few years' events. None of this should've happened. It probably wouldn't have, either, if Zeus had let us do our jobs. But he didn't. You mortals had to manage completely on your own, and it all fell to ruin. And now it's time for that all to change. You'll be the start of that."

"Okay?" Dahlia can hear the question in her voice. She doesn't understand most of what Hermes said, but she figures it's really important.

"Your mother said to tell you to be careful," Hermes says. "You know how bad things can get around here."

_Yeah, I do_, Dahlia thinks.

Hermes gives her a sad smile. "Good luck, Dahlia Okelley."

The dream fades, and Dahlia snaps awake to find Tarquin standing over her. She sits up in surprise.

"Hi," she says.

"Get up," Tarquin orders. "You need to get dressed."

Dahlia stands quickly. "How long have you been here?"

Tarquin just holds out a pile of clothes. Dahlia sighs and takes them.

She changes quickly into a tight, lightweight t-shirt, pants, a jacket made of some extremely soft and warm material, and soft leather boots. All of it is compact, almost skin-tight, with nothing that could catch on anything. All of it is tan, probably to match the stones of the buildings upstairs.

Dahlia feels almost normal, wearing these clothes. They're a lot like the ones she wore at camp, just tighter.

Tarquin's eyes softened a little as they stood in that little room, staring at the platform in the corner and waiting for the signal.

"Be careful out there," he says. "It gets bad."

"I know." Dahlia's voice was weak.

Tarquin glances at her. "It will be okay."

_Is he trying to be comforting?_ Dahlia thinks incredulously.

"Yeah," she mutters.

And that's when the signal comes. Tarquin says, "Time to go." And his voice is flat again, uncaring.

Dahlia doesn't want to go, but it's not like she has much choice. She steps onto the platform and waits as the tube slides down over her. When the platform beneath her feet begins to rise, her heart clenches and she wants more than anything in the world to try to claw her way out of this stupid tube. But she can't. And the platform rises, higher and higher, until she can see that same square from her dream, only from a different point of view.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Claudius Templesmith's voice rings out, "let the Fifty-third Hunger Games begin!"

The cornucopia looms above Dahlia, glittering in the morning sunlight. It's beautiful in an evil sort of way, and filled to the brim with stuff. Scattered around the cornucopia are a bunch of other things, getting progressively more impressive as they near it.

Only a few feet in front of Dahlia, there's a strip of cloth about two feet long. A few feet behind that lays a small wooden box.

The cornucopia glitters tantalizingly at Dahlia, with all its goodies. Unfortunately, she knows she'll have no chance if she tries to get to the cornucopia. She'll just be another bloodbath tribute.

She looks around. The boy from Ten is two tributes down from her. She can't see Adair or Barric- they must be on the other side of the cornucopia. Most of the tributes look awed or scared or both. Some look giddy with bloodlust, their eyes glittering with fierce delight as they gaze at the cornucopia. Two look cool and calm and calculating- Slate and some other kid- a boy who Dahlia thinks is from District Three.

_Only a few seconds left_, Dahlia thinks. Her eyes swoop around the square. There are weeds scattered everywhere, but none that Dahlia could wrap around ankles without it getting noticed by the cameras she knows are all around this place. She'll have to make do, then.

The gong rings, and the Hunger Games begins.

* * *

_**A/N: So...long time no see. Heh heh. Yeah...anyway, I hope you guys like this chapter.**_


	27. Chapter 27

_**Disclaimer: I don't own The Hunger Games, Percy Jackson and the Olympians, or Heroes of Olympus. They belong to their respective owners: Suzanne Collins and Rick Riordan.**_

* * *

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Everything that happens next seems to go in slow motion. All at once, people are dashing off the platforms. Dahlia finds her own feet moving. She grabs the cloth and the wooden box, reaching out with her mind across the ground and tripping as many people as she can manage. Only a few feet ahead, there's a blue backpack. Dahlia dashes in and grabs it quickly, then hesitates, just for a moment, staring at the cornucopia. Already most of the Career pack is battling it out against the other tributes at the mouth. Blood splatters everywhere. People fall left and right. Dahlia doesn't dare go near.

A girl with a javelin is running at her- the girl from Seven, Dahlia thinks. She throws, and the knife goes spinning way out of range. Still, it startles Dahlia, and she backs up quickly. She hears the girl curse loudly as she flees the scene, along with many others doing the exact same thing. She weaves through the buildings at a jog, clutching the box and the cloth in her hands, the backpack heavy and dark on her back.

_Trees_, she thinks. _There have to be trees somewhere around here. _She wants to be out of these ruins as fast as possible. They make her sad and uncomfortable. These used to be a city- huge, flourishing cities that have long since fallen to nothing. Chiron used to tell Dahlia stories of long ago. A place called the United States of America, where the Hunger Games didn't exist. That's where Percy Jackson and Annabeth Chase and all those other heroes lived. Dahlia wishes she could've lived there, too. It always sounded like a great place to her.

She keeps jogging, figuring that eventually she'll hit the outskirts, or an old city park, or something.

She looks around at all the tall buildings. She can tell that they once brushed the sky. Now, however, they're worn down by years of wear and tear. Windows are broken, walls are gone, entire floors are missing. Some buildings are just piles of rubble. Everything has an unclean feel to it.

Dahlia keeps jogging. Her breathing is heavy now, but she forces herself to go faster, until she gets a safe distance from the cornucopia. Then she starts walking, for what seems like hours, until she finally comes to a huge stretch of forest.

It has to be a park, but it's giant. Dahlia can see old, torn-up concrete walkways, rotted wooden benches, and lots and lots of trees. She moves quickly through them, her eyes darting around, looking for signs that anyone is following her. There's nothing that she can see. But of course there are cameras on her. As much as these trees look normal, Dahlia knows they must be fitted with tiny cameras and traps like the ones she's seen in Hunger Games past. She'll never be alone again. Not really.

Dahlia finds a small clearing deep in the park, well off whatever beaten track existed at one point, and allows herself to rest. She sits with her back against a wide tree and looks through her supplies.

The cloth and the box, of course. She supposes that the cloth could be used as a scarf or a bandage, whichever comes first, but she has no idea what to make of the box. She can't get it open, and whenever she rattles it, it doesn't seem like there's anything in it. Maybe grabbing it was pointless and she wasted precious time by doing it.

She carefully unzips her backpack, a strange excitement building in her stomach. The first thing she pulls out is another strip of cloth, smaller and lighter than her other one. The next is a canteen for water. She unscrews the lid and looks inside. There's water in it, but enough for one tiny little sip, nothing more. She closes the canteen again. Next is a match box with a grand total of two matches in it. Heck of a lot of good that does her. She'll be able to make two fires, if she can strike the box right. She doesn't even need them, really. She can make a fire without matches. It is kind of nice she won't have to try, though.

She keeps looking through her stuff. A small pouch of dried fruit, some weird jerky, and a short length of rope. Various other things. Dahlia carefully inventories each item, and then loads her backpack again. She stands up and starts walking again. She'll stay somewhere in the park, unless she finds a better place, but staying still right now isn't a good idea. The Careers might be regrouping, but soon enough they'll be out hunting. And Dahlia wants to put as much distance between herself and the cornucopia as she can manage today.

The forest feels too quiet. This entire world of ruins is too quiet. It's like the arena is holding its breath, waiting for the bad things to come. It's unnatural, and it scares Dahlia. She wonders if there are even any animals here. Maybe the Gamemakers came through and wiped them all out while they were preparing this place for the Games. Dahlia wouldn't be surprised.

As she keeps walking, though, eyes roving the forest for any sign of attack, her mind begins to wander to more pressing problems- ones that she'd really rather not think about. Like Diamond and Mica. Or Barric and Adair. It scares her that she doesn't know what's happened to any of them. Maybe none of them are even alive. Dahlia has no way of knowing for sure, and it kills her.

If Barric's or Adair's face appears in the sky tonight, Dahlia isn't sure how she'll react. Maybe relief that she won't have to worry about killing them later on, or that something like her dream won't come true. As soon as she thinks of that, though, a wave of pain shoots through her, and she knows she'll never be able to feel that way. Most likely it'll be grief. Huge, crippling grief. And so she hopes that won't happen. She wants to be able to at least say good-bye (though, of course, in the Games, the chances of that happening are small).

As for Diamond and Mica...well, she doesn't know. She's not sure how she'll ever know what happened to them. It's not like she can send a message to anyone from this place. But she worries and worries. She hopes they're alive.

Then, suddenly, she wonders if Chiron knows what's happened. She wonders if maybe her siblings are watching her right now on some kind of one-way Iris-message, or maybe even a TV. Surely there must _be_ one at camp, even if it's not used very often.

She really hopes not. She doesn't want her siblings to have to watch her die. Or anyone at camp, for that matter.

_You're a demigod_, a little voice in her head whispers. _It was going to happen eventually._

_That doesn't make it any better_, Dahlia protests. Then she shakes her head. Responding to her own thoughts. Maybe she's already going crazy. The silence alone is almost enough to do that.

Briefly, Dahlia wonders what's going on for the other tributes. Maybe there's some kind of battle going on right now, and the cameras aren't focusing on her so much. Surely the bloodbath is over by now- Dahlia's certain it's been hours since the Games began- but she hasn't heard the cannons. Maybe she just wasn't paying enough attention. That wouldn't surprise her at all.

It doesn't matter. She definitely won't miss the anthem and the pictures tonight. Even she's not that distracted.

For who knows how long, she just walks. Eventually, she comes to the edge of the park and stops. There might be a forest outside the city, but Dahlia doesn't want to leave the park just to find out. The trees make her feel safer, more at home. She's loath to leave them. But she takes a deep breath and steps out onto the concrete.

It's like some of her energy drains away the instant her feet touch the ground. She's used to that, though. She always feels better when plants are around her. In this ruined city, with all its stone and heat, Dahlia feels almost sick when she first steps out. Until she got chosen for the Games, she'd never really been in a place with such a small amount of plants. District 11 is all about agriculture. She spent most of her time in the fields or orchards back when she lived there. And Camp Half-Blood is a valley. It's all grass and plants and flowers, with very little concrete.

The Capitol and this place are the only places she's ever been with so little vegetation. Only now is she starting to feel that.

She sways unsteadily for a moment, then shakes her head, takes a deep breath, and keeps walking. She can't afford to look weak.

Dahlia walks and walks and walks. After a while, she gets hungry, so she pulls out the bag of dried fruit and allows herself a little bit. She's really thirsty, but the stupid canteen only has a sip in it, and she has no clue where she can get some more. Even if she did, it wouldn't help much. She'd have to build a fire and boil the water before she could drink it, and the heat probably wouldn't help her thirst that much.

She wonders if maybe she could just drink water straight from wherever she finds it- maybe it would be safe. But she doesn't think it's a good idea.

* * *

Eventually, the sun starts to set, and Dahlia circles back. Just as she steps back into the park, the anthem blares, and Dahlia's eyes jump up to the sky, waiting for the pictures to appear. Then they do, flashing across the sky. No one from the first four districts is dead yet. The first picture to appear in the sky is the girl from Five, then both tributes from Six, the boy from Seven, the girl from Eight, the girl from Nine. Dahlia lets out a breath of relief when Barric's picture doesn't go by, but she does feel bad for him. His district partner's dead. And, Dahlia realizes, she doesn't even know what the girl's name was.

Both from Ten. Dahlia feels a little pang when she sees the boy's face. She didn't like him very much, but she didn't want him to _die_.

And then Dahlia stops thinking about that, because then the pictures stop and the anthem starts again. Dahlia lets out a huge sigh of relief. Barric and Adair are both alive.

Then she thinks about the more depressing side of things. Eight tributes are dead. There are sixteen left. Dahlia wonders what the families back in the districts must be thinking. They're probably grieving, or maybe they're just numb. Dahlia feels bad for them.

Then she thinks, _Sixteen left. One step closer to my death._

Wow. What morbid thoughts she's having all of a sudden. Dahlia pushes them from her mind and walks to a nearby tree. She scrambles up the tree and sits on a branch with her back against the trunk. She carefully pulls her backpack around onto her lap and takes out the water canteen with its pitiful amount of water. She needs to get more tomorrow, but for now, she just untwists the cap and downs the little bit she has, then twists it up again and puts it away. It doesn't help. She grabs the rope from her backpack, then zips it up.

Dahlia glances down at the ground, at least ten feet below. She'll have to tie herself in, just in case. She shoves the backpack behind her again and sets to work.

Soon enough, she's tied to the tree as securely as she can manage. She's shivering now, though, as she wraps her jacket tighter around herself and zips it up. Then she takes out one of her strips of cloth and wraps it around her neck as a scarf. It doesn't help that much, but she closes her eyes anyway, and tries to fall asleep.

She dreams first of camp and her siblings back there. Gardening, training, laughing, reading.

Then, suddenly, the dream changes, and she finds herself in a dark hall, lit only by flickering lights along the ceiling. It seems like some kind of dungeon. But it's silent as a graveyard. Maybe no one's here.

Then the door at the end of the hall bursts open, and light comes streaming in. Two Peacekeepers in white uniforms come in, dragging two much smaller forms, one of which is slumped over, as if unconscious, the other is struggling wildly to get free.

Dahlia can't see any of their faces, but she knows who they must be. Diamond and Mica didn't get away after all. Dahlia's heart clenches, and she tries to reach out, to run forward, to call out their names, but she can't move. Her voice is gone.

Dahlia hears a soft click, and suddenly the room is washed with light. She tenses up, but no one seems to notice her.

Yep, the captives are definitely Diamond and Mica. Diamond's struggling, the expression on her face one of rage that only seems to intensify when she looks at Mica's drooping form.

"Let me go!" she yells. "Let him go! You can't take us!"

"Shut up," her Peacekeeper growls, seeming to have some trouble holding onto her.

Diamond just struggles harder.

The Peacekeeper tightens his hold on her. "Throw him in that cell there. We'll deal with him later. Let's take her somewhere she can't cause any more trouble."

His companion nods. He unlocks the nearest cell and throws the unconscious Mica on the floor, where he lies in a heap of limbs just inside the door. Dahlia studies him and notices a small circle of blood on the side of his head, matting down his brown hair, along with several bruises up and down his arms. Dahlia gasps. What did they do to him?

As the Peacekeeper locks the door on Mica again, Diamond manages to break free from her Peacekeeper's grasp. "No!" she screams. "You can't do this!" She runs for Mica's cell, but his Peacekeeper grabs her arms. She struggles, and Dahlia can see the desperation in her eyes.

"No!"

The other Peacekeeper helps his comrade and together they drag Diamond out of the room, kicking and screaming.

The instant they get out of the room, Dahlia discovers she can move. She rushes to Mica's cell door and kneels down next to him.

"Oh, Mica," she whispers, reaching carefully through the bars to touch his head wound. Her fingers come back bloody, and she knows his head must hurt, but he doesn't even twitch. Dahlia's afraid he's not even alive, except for the slight, even rise and fall of his back as he breathes. "I'm so sorry."

Then the scene disappears and she's following Diamond and her captors up a few flights of stairs.

They enter another cellblock, and the Peacekeepers throw her down on the floor in there, then close up the door quickly.

"Don't get comfortable," one of them says. Then they're gone.

Diamond stands tall until they're out of sight, glaring at their backs. But once the door closes behind them, all the energy seems to drain out of her. She sinks to the floor and puts her head in her hands.

"I'm sorry we weren't fast enough, Dahlia," she whispers into her hands. "I'm sorry we can't help you any more. I wish you were here."

_I am here, Diamond. I'm sorry too_, Dahlia tries to say, but again she can't speak, driving home the fact that, no, she's not here. She's asleep in a tree in the arena, and she'll never really be with Diamond or Mica ever again.

Dahlia's dream fades, and she snaps awake to sunlight streaming through the trees. It looks entirely too happy for the scenes she just saw.


	28. Chapter 28

_**Disclaimer: I don't own The Hunger Games, Percy Jackson and the Olympians, or Heroes of Olympus. They belong to their respective owners: Suzanne Collins and Rick Riordan.**_

* * *

Chapter Twenty-Eight

The morning air is warm enough, but Dahlia feels cold as she gathers her things together. Diamond and Mica are trapped in a Capitol and it's all Dahlia's fault. Worse than that, it's all her fault _and_ she can't do anything about it. She's as trapped as they are, just in a more...public way.

Dahlia carefully puts her backpack on and looks down at the ground. When she doesn't see anything worrying, she starts to climb down the tree, tense, listening to even the slightest sound. It's because she's listening so hard that she suddenly notices the birdsong.

So there _are_ animals here.

Dahlia jumps from the tree and lands with a soft thump, then looks around for signs that anyone's here. She finds none, but that doesn't put her mind at ease.

She allows herself a little bit of the dried fruit, then sets out to find water. There has to be some somewhere around here, or this Games wouldn't be fun for viewers at all. They'd just be watching all the tributes slowly die of thirst.

She searches everywhere in the park, until she finds a little creek, which she kneels next to and pulls out her water canteen.

She doesn't have a water purifier, but the water is running quickly and, when she sticks her finger in, just for a moment, she discovers that it's cold. That's a good sign. So she fills her canteen with the creek water, then allows herself a sip. She caps the canteen and sticks it in her pack again, then zips it up. Just as she's standing, though, she hears a twig snap in the woods close by. She tenses up and slowly turns around.

Calling out probably wouldn't be the best idea, she decides. So she just walks toward the sound as silently as she can, avoiding twigs and leaves.

She hears another snap, closer now, and dodges behind the nearest tree. She peers cautiously around the tree.

For a few seconds, she sees nothing but trees and grass. Then someone appears, and she draws back a little.

She watches them, studies them. Her eyes drift up to their face and she has to bite back a gasp. It's Adair.

How lucky could she be? But then she thinks, _Exactly__. Just running into him like this... It's a little too good to be true, isn't it?_

But surely the Games aren't so boring already that the Gamemakers are starting on traps. They've only been in the arena for a _day_. The Careers are probably still keeping audiences plenty entertained.

At least, that's what Dahlia's hoping.

She steels herself and whispers, "Adair."

Adair freezes, terror written all over his face. His hand goes for his waist, and Dahlia notices the knife there for the first time. _Where in Hades did he get a knife?_ is her first thought. And her second one is, _Stupid! I should've noticed the knife before._

"Who's there?" Adair grips his knife nervously. His voice is very soft, very shaky. That, coupled with the fact that he's holding the knife the wrong way, makes him look anything but threatening.

"It's just me." Dahlia takes a deep breath and steps out from behind the tree, hands held up to show she has no weapons. Adair's eyes dart to her face, and he relaxes, but only a little.

"Dahlia." Some emotion flits across his features-relief? "You're okay." Okay, definitely relief.

"Yeah," she agrees. "So are you."

Adair's still holding his dagger out. It's making Dahlia nervous. She reaches out and carefully takes the knife from his hand. "Let's put this away, okay?" And she stuffs it in her pack. There. Now she has a weapon.

"I was looking for you." Adair looks nervous again. His hand is still clenched, like he's still holding the knife. Maybe he doesn't like that she took it?

"Well, you found me." Dahlia studies him. "Are you okay? You look a little...stressed."

Adair laughs, which seems to break the awkwardness around them, though the sound is a little shaky. "Stressed? Yeah, you could say that. We're in the freaking Hunger Games."

Well...yeah. Dahlia knows that. But she doesn't feel scared right now, standing in these woods talking to Adair. She feels more...calm. The wilderness is her home turf after all, and this place could be the woods back at camp. She could simply be playing a game of capture-the-flag.

Except, well, Adair wouldn't be there, and she'd be wearing armor instead of a backpack. And she'd probably have a weapon a bit stronger than a dagger. But she tries not to focus on that.

Dahlia shrugs. "Do you know where Barric is?"

"No." Adair's expression sours, and his hand goes from gripping an imaginary knife to a full-blown fist. "I wanted to make sure you were okay first."

"Why?" Dahlia shakes her head. "You saw the pictures last night, right? I wasn't one of them."

"But that didn't mean you weren't hurt."

Dahlia's a little surprised. Adair had been worried about her, enough to come looking for her? This doesn't exactly fit the norm for him. Maybe the Hunger Games is messing with his brain, or something.

She shrugs that off and looks around nervously. The birds are quiet, and Dahlia doesn't want to wait around to find out why. "We need to get out of here," she says softly.

They set out.

The day is mostly uneventful. Dahlia and Adair show each other their supplies (Adair has three knives, including the one in Dahlia's backpack). Then they mostly focus on getting far away from the cornucopia. Dahlia would much rather stay in the park, but she knows it's probably too dangerous. She ignores the fatigue she feels when she steps out of the forest, but it's pretty bad, if only for a little while. Concrete is everywhere, with very little plantlife.

She's heard that demigods always feel strongest in their parents' elements, and she supposes that must be true, based on her experiences now.

She can't share any of this with Adair, of course, but he notices how she stumbles a little as they leave the park. He just steadies her and they keep walking.

Once they hear a cannon, and they both freeze. Dahlia finds herself thinking, _Nine dead. Fifteen left. I hope that wasn't Barric..._

Adair snaps out of it first. "Come on," he says brusquely, acting a bit more like himself now. He trudges off, and Dahlia doesn't have much choice but to follow.

When night falls, they make camp in a building that looks reasonably intact. Dahlia is fairly sure it won't collapse on top on them. They don't build a fire, but share some of Dahlia's dried fruit and a few sips from her water canteen.

When they're done with that lavish meal, the anthem starts, and both their heads immediately snap up to look out the window at the open sky.

The picture that shows up on the screen isn't Barric. It's the girl from District Three.

After the anthem plays again and the night is dark and silent again, Dahlia and Adair look at each other.

"Fifteen left," Dahlia says, trying to sound casual, not scared out of her mind like she really is.

"Yeah. Nine dead." Adair's voice is a lot more casual than hers. He looks down at his hands. "We should probably get some sleep."

"Yeah," Dahlia whispers. "I guess I'll take first watch..." She doesn't want to go to sleep, anyway. Not if it means more dreams.

Adair frowns, but he nods. He takes off his backpack, rests his head on it, and is asleep in a few seconds.

Dahlia's back stays straight and rigid. She carefully unzips her own backpack and takes out the knife she took from Adair earlier. Then she zips it back up, puts it on, and sits as tight against the wall as she can manage. She scans the room for dangers and possible escape routes. She has a bad feeling. Things have been almost too easy for her so far. She got water, she found Adair, she even got her hands on a knife. She hasn't run into a single problem (well, unless she counts bad dreams, but she doesn't), and it's been an entire two days in the arena now. There's no way her luck can hold. Especially now. There was only one cannon today. The Gamemakers will be looking for ways to spice things up, keep the audience entertained.

Which means awful things are coming for Dahlia and the other tributes.

Dahlia glances down at Adair, who's still fast asleep. He looks so peaceful when he's asleep, almost sweet. (Dahlia quickly shies away from this thought. She will _not_ think of Adair as sweet.) His mouth hangs open a little, and a lock of his jet-black hair hangs across his face, cutting it in half.

Dahlia thinks of that picture on the wall in Chiron's office. Percy Jackson and Annabeth Chase. Percy's hair was a lot like Adair's, a little bit shaggy, a little bit messy, and very, very dark.

Dahlia looks away from her tribute partner and starts searching the dark room again. Something feels wrong here.

Would the Gamemakers attack at night? Maybe, but surely there aren't many people to entertain at night. The audience has to sleep at some point, right?

But of course that doesn't mean she and Adair are safe. The Gamemakers may be doing it all for the Capitolites' enjoyment, but the Careers couldn't care less when prime time is. They're probably out hunting right now, when the other tributes are the most vulnerable.

Something moves in her peripheral vision, and instantly her eyes dart toward it. But it's only Adair, turning his head. Dahlia allows herself to relax just a little, then returns to her vigil.

Then she hears a sound outside the window, and she carefully spins around, gets up on her knees, and peers out the window.

She sucks in her breath at the sight outside.

It's the Careers. Slate, Castle- every single one of them stands on the street outside. Dahlia lowers herself just a little more, but keeps watching.

Castle appears to be agitated. He's raking his hands through his hair. His lips are moving, seeming to form a string of profanity. Dahlia wonders what's making him so upset.

Slate, who's blond hair is now significantly shorter, goes over to Castle and puts a hand on his arm. He seems to whisper a few words of condolence, and Castle calms down just a little. He pushes Slate off and turns to the rest of the group.

Dahlia can hear him now.

"Tonight's been...difficult," he says, and the other Careers- who seem to be pretty frustrated- nod in agreement. "But they have to be out here somewhere. We'll find them."

The other Careers don't look so sure, but they nod anyway.

Castle says a bunch of other things, probably meant to sound encouraging and supportive, but he sounds as uncertain as the others look.

During Castle's speech, Slate stands right next to him, but he seems to be paying no attention whatsoever. His eyes wander around the street, seemingly aimless, but Dahlia can see the sharpness of his gaze, the calculating look in his eyes, as if the whole world is one big equation.

Those eyes scare her, but she can't seem to look away.

And that's her mistake. In their trip around the street, Slate's green eyes catch her brown ones. It's only for a brief second- Dahlia ducks down quickly- but it's enough. His eyes widen even as Dahlia hurries to hide, and she knows she has to get out of there.

She glances down at Adair, then curses under breath. With one hand, she covers up his mouth, and with the other, she shakes him roughly.

His eyes flicker open. She can see the drowsiness in them. Dahlia's hand muffles his voice as he asks, "What are you doing?"

"We have to get out of here," Dahlia whispers quickly. "Right now. Careers. Slate saw me. Come on!"

Adair's eyes widen, and he carefully sits up. He pulls on his backpack, and together he and Dahlia head for the closest exit.

Dahlia can hear footsteps approaching. She hears soft voices enjoying the moment, the chance to hunt.

Dahlia and Adair make it out of the building just as the Careers get it. Then they get to their feet and set off, attempting to combine running and tiptoeing as they make their way down the alley between their building and the one next to it.

Dahlia grips her knife tightly, glancing behind them to make sure no one is following them.

Strangely, no one seems to be, though Dahlia can hear the shouts of frustration behind them. "Where is she? You said she was here!"

And then Slate's voice, cool and calm and terrifying, cuts through the cacophony. "She was. Don't worry, we'll find her. Spread out. She can't be far."

Dahlia and Adair go faster.

"Why didn't you wake me up earlier?" he whispers.

"There wasn't a problem earlier. Now, move it and shush."

"Bossy." Adair mutters under his breath.

"We're being chased by a pack of Careers." Dahlia keeps her voice as quiet as possible. "Heck yeah, I'm being bossy."  
That makes Adair shut up. _Finally._

They get out of the alley, and Adair slams to a stop. Dahlia almost crashes into him, but stops herself just in time.

"What are you doing?" she hisses directly into his ear, her voice barely more than a breath.

Adair discreetly waves his hand toward the street, and Dahlia peeks around him. She quickly covers her mouth to muffle her gasp. Slate and Castle are right there, no more than fifteen feet away. She and Adair have no chance of getting out without being seen.

Instead, she pulls Adair back into the darkness. Then she flattens herself against the wall and crouches down, dragging Adair with her.

"Try to stay still," she breathes, and Adair nods.

Of course, it turns out to be harder for Dahlia to manage this than Adair.

But it's only until Slate and Castle get out of their way. _Assuming they don't come into the alley... There's no way Slate wouldn't notice us here, even if Castle doesn't._

Dahlia pushes the thought away quickly and whispers, "Keep an eye on them. We move the second they can't see us anymore."  
"How can I tell that?"

"Do your best."

Adair sighs with frustration and, still keeping himself pressed against the wall as much as possible, peers outside.

Long minutes pass, each feeling like an hour. Dahlia fidgets more and more each second.

Then, finally, Adair starts to turn toward her, his mouth already forming whatever his next words are. Probably something like, "Let's go."

But then his eyes widen a little, and he flattens himself back against the wall. Dahlia's eyebrows furrow in confusion, but Adair doesn't offer any explanation besides a tense glance further into the darkness.

Dahlia glances deeper into the alley, but doesn't see anything. So she listens hard, and hears footsteps coming down the alley.

_Please not Slate. Anyone but Slate_, she prays silently.

The footsteps get louder, and Dahlia's body tenses up.

She and Adair sit perfectly still. It's only seconds until the people (Or maybe it's only one person. Dahlia can't tell who it is; she doesn't dare risk looking up to check) walk past, but to Dahlia it seems like forever.

Luckily, they don't seem to notice her or Adair. They tromp past, seeming to be in a rush. Dahlia watches as they burst into the street. She hears footsteps retreating, then faint cries float back to her.

"Slate, there's no one here. We're wasting our time. We need to get back to camp."

Dahlia and Adair look at each other.

"Now?" Dahlia whispers.

Adair gets down on his hands and knees and crawls out of the alley a little. He looks down the street in both directions, then nods back at her. "They're a long way down, and not looking toward us, as far as I can tell." He glances across the street, as if gauging the distance. "Run fast, and they probably won't notice us."

Dahlia carefully rises out of her crouch. "Alright," she whispers. "Let's go."

Adair gets up, too. Together, they dart across the street and into an open doorway in another abandoned building. Once inside, they both starting toward whatever back exit might exist. They both know they have to get farther away from here.

They tiptoe-run again, as they make their getaway, darting through alleys and buildings. Once or twice, Dahlia even climbs up to higher floors to see if anyone is following them. Once, she thinks she sees someone, and they move to avoid them, but it's mostly quiet.

Still, Dahlia and Adair don't stop running till they're six or seven blocks down. Then they walk at a brisk pace through more alleys and buildings, looking for a good place to spend the rest of the night.

Eventually, they find a good building. Five of its levels are completely intact, and Dahlia can't tell if there was ever any more. Not like it matters.

She and Adair go inside. Adair goes to put his backpack on the ground, but Dahlia puts her hand on his arm. "Not here. Follow me."

"Why?"

"Just do it."

She looks for the stairs and finds them fairly easily. Adair looks nervous, but he follows her all the way up to the fifth floor. She moves toward the front of the room, next to a window, and says, "Right here."

Adair nervously takes off his backpack. "Right," he says, "but, Dahli, isn't it kind of dangerous to be up here? I mean, ruins at all."

"Does it look like this place is threatening to fall down?"

"Well, no, but..."

"Then we're staying."

Dahlia glances out the window, sees nothing, and sets her backpack down. She hands her knife to Adair. "Your turn to keep watch."

"Okay... Goodnight." Adair sits down next to his backpack.

"I hope so," Dahlia mutters under her breath as she rests her head on her backpack and closes her eyes.

She thinks she's too on edge to sleep, anyway, but her body disagrees. It takes a few minutes, but she falls asleep.


	29. Chapter 29

Chapter Twenty-Nine

For a while, Dahlia sleeps dreamlessly. Then the floodgates fly open and a slew of dreams assault her. The majority of them she doesn't remember when she wakes up.

They're mostly flashes, anyway. A glimpse of Diamond's face as she sits in her cell, scared and alone. Another glimpse of Mica, his eyes flickering open. Dahlia hears him groan, then the scene changes to one of Barric. He's walking down a street determinedly, his eyes darting all around in search of trouble. He has a very, very small pack over his shoulder.

Dahlia gets snapshots of camp. The campfire, burning dark blue as Chiron says, in a grim voice, "Dahlia Okelley has been chosen for the Hunger Games." Dahlia hears the beginning of the uproar, then she sees Radley sitting alone at his bunk in the Demeter cabin, staring down at something with tears forming in his eyes. Before Dahlia can see what he's looking at, she's whisked away to a vision of the Big House wreck room. The cabin counselors are all gathered around the table. Chron is just throwing a drachma into a spray of mist. He asks to see Dahlia, but before the Iris-message (which is definitely going to be one-way) can take shape, her dream changes.

It goes on like that. The scenes change so quickly, it's basically just one gigantic mess. Nothing makes sense, no questions are answered, and when Dahlia wakes to sunlight streaming through the windows and Adair shaking her shoulder, she remembers almost none of it. Just a fading impression of Diamond's weary face and the campfire's dark, dark color. Neither of those seem to help her a whole lot.

"Dahli, get up," Adair is saying.

Dahlia sits up and rubs her eyes. "What is it? Is everything okay?"

"It's fine," he assures her. "We just need to get going."

"Right."

Adair hands Dahlia the knife, which she shoves in her backpack. She and Adair have a small breakfast of dried fruit (she's starting to run low, even with the tiny rations they're allowing themselves), and then they set out.

Dahlia checks outside to make sure it's safe to go out. She can't see anything threatening anywhere near the building. They make their way down to the first floor, then go out onto the street and start walking.

Dahlia just knows something Gamemaker-induced will happen today, and she's not wrong.

At around noon, she hears a very loud boom off in the distance, and she slams to a stop.

"Did you hear that?" she asks. "That didn't sound like a cannon..."

Adair frowns. "No," he agrees. "It was more like...an explosion."

Both he and Dahlia look behind them in alarm.

_Danger_, Dahlia's mind is screaming at her. _Get out of there._

She's about to say something along the same lines to Adair, but before she can, he says, "Maybe we should go check it out..."

"Are you crazy?" Dahlia asks. "Let's get out of here." She tries to drag him off, but his feet stay planted as he stares back toward the sound.

Then, a long way down the street, a building blows apart. The blast is so powerful that she and Adair are knocked off their feet. They land hard on their butts and watch with terrified fascination as the shrapnel flies everywhere.

Then its over, and the silence seems to press against Dahlia's ears, louder than the explosion she'd heard a moment ago.

"Okay." Adair's voice is small. "I think we can get out of here now."

Dahlia doesn't reply. They both get to their feet, and set out.

They've only been walking for a few minutes when the tremors start. The ground beneath their feet starts to shake, and Adair and Dahlia go faster. But the earthquake intensifies with each second, and eventually they're rocking back and forth like ships in a storm, struggling to keep their footing. Dahlia hears crashes all around her as things in the buildings fall.

She trips, and Adair steadies her. They keep running, tripping all over themselves and falling everywhere.

Dahlia knows it's no use. "They want us to turn around!" she yells, as another tremor passes under her feet, forcing her to throw out her arms to keep her balance.

"I know!" Adair yells back. "But we can't! Who _knows_ what they have waiting for us!"

"We don't really have a choice, Adair!"

"You always have a choice!"

Dahlia isn't in the mood to get into a deep philosophical debate with him, so she doesn't respond.

She doesn't turn around either, though.

Not until another building explodes. This one is a few yards away, and Dahlia and Adair are thrown backwards. Dahlia's ears are ringing. The earthquake continues as Dahlia and Adair flatten themselves against the ground.

Dahlia prays that no shrapnel hits them.

Then a sharp pain rips through her calf, and Dahlia cries out.

Guess the gods aren't feeling generous today.

She and Adair stay down for a long time. Dahlia's leg throbs, but at least she doesn't get hit by anything else (at least, not anything big).

They stay down a long time after the shrapnel stops flying, then Dahlia carefully lifts her head and looks around. Slowly, she realizes that everything's gone completely silent. Even the earthquake's stopped. (Finally.)

Dahlia carefully rolls back over and looks at her leg. She very, very gently tilts her leg to look at the back, and the pain flares up. She bites her tongue.

There's a long gash running horizontally across her calf, bleeding too much for Dahlia's liking.

Behind her, she hears Adair say, "That looks bad."

She jumps, pain exploding in her leg, and bites down hard on her tongue again. "It is."

But she's trained for this, of course. She takes off her backpack and pulls it around in front of her. She digs through the pack and pulls out her strip of cloth and the canteen of water. She widens the hole in her pants a little, so she can deal with the wound better.

She wishes she had some ambrosia, maybe nectar. But she wouldn't be able to use it in front of Adair, anyway, so she carefully cleans out the wound with some of the water from her canteen, biting down hard on her tongue to keep from screaming (or crying). Then she ties the cloth around the wound.

Adair watches her the whole time. "You're pretty good at this."

Dahlia shrugs and glances at him. She's startled to discover his face is only a few inches from hers.

She scoots a little away from him.

"Are you okay?" She studies him. She can see minor cuts and scratches, like the ones she has all over her body, but there doesn't seem to be anything serious.

"Nah, I'm good. I got lucky."

"Obviously."

Dahlia caps the canteen and puts it back in her backpack. Then she zips it up, pulls it on, and struggles to her feet.

The pain explodes in her leg for a second, but just as quickly it fades to a constant throb. Still, in that first second, she teeters a little, and Adair jumps to his feet to steady her.

She pushes him off. "I'm fine."

"You sure? You look a little pale."

"I'm fine."

Adair sighs. "Okay." He pulls on his backpack and says, "You ready?"

Dahlia nods. "Let's go."

Dahlia is limping a bit. The pain flares a little, then fades back down with every step she takes, but she keeps going. She knows the pain won't be there forever.

They're heading back now, though, just like the Gamemakers want them to. Maybe that's why the ground isn't shaking anymore, why buildings aren't exploding anymore.

Dahlia loses track of time. She doesn't know whether they've been walking for thirty minutes or hours, but eventually they hear someone scream. A few minutes later, the sound of a cannon rings out.

"Who..." Dahlia turns toward the sound and starts to walk that way. Adair doesn't question her.

_Fourteen left_, Dahlia thinks as they walk. _At this rate, we'll all be gone in no time._

When they're two blocks from the spot where they heard the scream, one of the hovercrafts comes and gets the person. Dahlia sees the body rising into the sky, but she can't tell who it is from here. It looks like it could be a boy, though, and a shiver of fear shoots through her. _What if it's_ _Barric?_

She and Adair keep walking. Dahlia thinks that maybe walking toward the place where one of your fellow tributes died is maybe not a great idea, but she's doing it anyway.

Soon enough, they find the scene of the crime. Blood lies in pools on the street, and there's a few arrows scattered around, but no bow, and no people anywhere. Dahlia looks around with a frown.

"What happened here?" she wonders aloud.

Adair shrugs. "No idea." He's collecting the arrows.

"What are you doing?" Dahlia asks.

"No use letting perfectly good arrows go to waste," he says.

He picks up an arrow with blood on the tip and carefully wipes it off on his pant leg. Something about the sight makes Dahlia feel a little sick, but she swallows it down and pulls a knife out of her pack, just in case. This place feels too quiet. She looks back at Adair.

"We don't have anything to fire them with."

Adair shrugs again. He wipes off another arrow. "We'll figure out something."

"I'm afraid you won't have time for that," says a different voice, as an arrow zips past Dahlia's head, missing, but only just. She flinches.

She and Adair both turn toward the voice. Adair has all the arrows now, and he's gripping them tightly, as if planning to attack.

A boy stands in the shadows of a nearby alley, aiming an arrow at them. Dahlia can't make out his face.

Dahlia holds up her hands, letting the knife slip from her grasp a little reluctantly, trying to subtly look for weeds around him. She notices one right next to this boy's feet. Perfect. She smiles at him as she quietly wills the weed to gently wrap around the boy's ankles.

"Hey, it's okay," she says. "We won't hurt you."

The boy doesn't seem to notice the weeds slowly entangling his ankles. He laughs. "Yeah, right."

"I'm serious," Dahlia insists. "We just came over here to see what happened."

Then she realizes that might not be such a great thing to say, since it's pretty obvious that this boy is what happened. Maybe it would be better to just run.

Of course, then they might get arrows in their backs, and that wouldn't be any good.

Better to wait till he falls. She just needs him to step forward. He's bound to do it sometime, right? Preferably before he shoots them.

"Then let me show you," he says, and then there's the step Dahlia was waiting for.

He tries to step forward, but he ends up falling over, flat on his face. His bow slips out of his grip. He curses. "What the-?"

He starts to get back up, but before he can manage, Dahlia pushes Adair, taking the opportunity to grab her knife as fast as she can.

"Run!" she screams, jerking up.

"But-his bow."

"Just leave it!"

Adair shakes his head and runs over to the boy.

The boy is on his hands and knees now; he tries to grab his bow back, but Adair steps down hard on his hand and picks up the bow and arrow on the ground. The other boy rips his hand away and cradles it against his chest.

"Where's your quiver?" Adair asks.

"Who cares?" Dahlia complains. "You have plenty of arrows. Let's go."

Before he can respond, she grabs his arm and drags him away.

"You and your stupid archery."

"Hey, I'm good at it."

Dahlia rolls her eyes and keeps running, ignoring the pain in her calf. Adair pulls his arm away and slings the bow over his shoulder. He's still gripping his arrows.

Dahlia hears pounding footsteps behind them, and she knows that boy managed to get up and untangle the weeds.

She dodges into a nearby alley, dragging Adair with her. She forces herself to keep going, despite the pain. The sound of that boy's feet pounding on the concrete keeps her running, dragging Adair along.

She runs until she can't hear the pounding of that boy's feet anymore. She falls back against something and pants heavily. For a while, it's just because she's tired that she's breathing so heavily. Then the pain in her calf hits her, and she bites down on her tongue to keep from crying out. Then, randomly, she wonders if you can bruise your tongue, and has to bite down harder to keep from laughing.

"You okay?" Adair's voice brings her back to reality.

"What? Yeah, I'm fine. Just a little tired..." She glances down at her leg. It looks well enough, all things considered.

Adair looks at her leg too, then back up at the strain on her face.

"Maybe you should sit down."

"I'm fine," Dahlia mutters. She pushes off the wall and glares at him, trying not to show her fatigue.

He shakes his head. "Whatever. Come on."

They carefully walk out of the alley, Adair still gripping his arrows. He frowns at them. "I need a quiver."

"Use your backpack."

"But-" Adair sighs. He takes off his backpack and unzips a little from the top, then sticks his arrows in. It looks kind of stupid, but it works. He puts the pack back on. They keep walking.

Every once in a while, they'll hear an explosion off in the distance. Once the ground starts tremoring under their feet, only to disappear the next second, the Gamemakers apparently deciding they weren't worth messing with right now.

Dahlia opens up her canteen of water and peers inside. She frowns. "We'll have to get more water..." Really, it's a miracle the canteen lasted this long, anyway. "The only place I know of is back in the park."

Adair looks around despairingly. These ruins all look pretty much the same. "Any idea where that is?"

Dahlia frowns. She'd say they're walking toward it already, but they've been dodging into so many places today that she's not sure of that anymore.

"Um... I think it might be that way." She points a little to the left of them.

"Great," Adair murmurs. "Let's go."

They change direction. Dahlia really hopes she's right about this. She doesn't feel like getting lost.

She doesn't have time to worry about that, though, because suddenly she feels hands grasp her throat from behind, and she lets out a strangled gasp. She struggles against her attacker as Adair spins around.

His eyes widen, and he whips out his bow and loads and arrow in the time it takes for Dahlia to blink.

"Let her go," he demands, his voice harsh.

"No."

It's that boy from before. Dahlia keeps struggling as she silently scolds herself. She should've known. She should've been paying more attention, and this wouldn't have happened. She steps on the boy's foot as hard as she can. He lets out a little gasp, but doesn't loosen his grip on her neck. Actually, he tightens it, and she freaks out internally. He's not cutting off her air yet, but soon he will be.

Adair raises his bow, but the boy doesn't budge.

"You shoot, you risk hitting her. I wouldn't try it," the boy says.

Adair's confidence wavers. He lowers the bow a little.

Dahlia claws at the boy's hands. She manages to get one away from her throat, but when she tries to grab the other one, his hand slips out of her grasp. He tightens his grip, and suddenly all she can focus on is breathing. Her hands rip at the boy's hands as she struggles for breath.

"Let- go!" she gasps desperately. "Please!"

"Why should I?"

Dahlia doesn't answer. She locks eyes with Adair. _Help me!_

He studies her predicament, taking it all in in a second. Then he raises his bow again, shifting the point of the arrow toward a different place, right next to Dahlia's shoulder.

"I'll give you one more chance," he warns. "Let her go."

The boy doesn't respond. Adair lets his arrow fly.

He's just a little off, because it grazes Dahlia's arm in its flight (but only barely), and she winces. But then the boy cries out. He releases her, and Dahlia takes a huge gasp of air as she spins around and grabs her shoulder. She staggers backward, watching as the boy reaches for his own shoulder, which now has an arrow protruding from it.

She can see his face clearly now. It's the boy from Five. She doesn't remember his name, but she recognizes his face from the reaping videos.

There are tears pricking his eyes as he stares at his shoulder. All Dahlia can do is stare, until she feels Adair's hand on her arm, hears his voice telling her to come on. She nods and turns her back on the boy. She follows Adair away.

"I hope he'll be okay," she murmurs.

Adair's face tightens. "Let's focus on you being okay first. How's your shoulder?"

Dahlia glances at it. Really, it's not bad. Barely more than a scrape. It's only bleeding a little.

"It'll be fine," she decides. "We need to keep going."

"As long as you're sure."

Dahlia nods.

"Okay," Adair says.

They keep walking. It takes a really long time, but eventually they find the park again. Dahlia was right about the direction.

"Okay, then we'll be careful," Adair whispers back.

They quietly make their way through the woods, looking around for other tributes. Dahlia lets her mind seep into the grass, trying to sense people that might be approaching. All she can feel is Adair, right next to her, for a good twenty yard radius.

"We have to be careful," she whispers to Adair as they step into the park. "There's probably a lot of other tributes in these woods. The stream here might be the only water source in the whole arena."

"Okay, then we'll be careful," Adair replies.

They make their way carefully through the woods, looking around for possible attackers. Dahlia let her mind sink down into the grass, trying to sense any approaching tributes. She can't feel anyone except Adair for many, many yards around them. That satisfies her for now. She leads the way through the trees, toward the stream, feeling completely at ease in this place.

They find the stream quickly, always keeping a look out. More than once, Dahlia runs her mind through the grass, searching for tributes. But there's no one but Adair for a very long way.

Dahlia kneels next to the stream and pulls out the canteen.

"Keep watch," she murmurs to Adair. "Shoot anyone who comes by." She starts to turn around, to uncap the canteen and start refilling it. But then she realizes something. She turns around. "Unless it's Barric."  
Adair's face darkens, but he nods. Dahlia turns back around and starts to fill up her canteen. When she's done, she cups a little more water in her hands and gently splashes it on her wounded shoulder. It stings a little at first contact, but the cool water makes the ache ease some. She smiles and rises.

"Ready," she says.

"Great." Adair backs toward her. "I was getting a little antsy. Let's get out of here."

"Alright," she agrees, capping the canteen.

She leads Adair away, holding the canteen in one hand and a knife in the other.

"Don't you have a canteen?" she mutters to Adair.

"No," he responds. "There wasn't one in my bag."

"What, did they want you to-" Dahlia cuts off. Bad question. They're in the Hunger Games. Yes, they want Adair to die. And Dahlia too.

Adair glances at her with a smirk. "Yes," he says.

Dahlia glares at him. "Yeah, I got that."

Adair's smirk widens. He turns to go back the way they came, and Dahlia's spirits fall for a second. They'll have to go back out of the woods.

She pushes the thought away and focuses. She scans for other tributes with her daughter-of-Demeter senses, ignoring the fatigue it gives her. Oh no. She reaches out and grabs Adair's hand.

"We can't go that way," she whispers.

"Why?" Adair looks at her with confusion.

Well, what's she supposed to say now? "Too dangerous," she mutters. "We can't go out the same way we came in. It's asking to get caught."

Adair frowns. "Okay?"

"Just come on." Dahlia grabs Adair's arm and drags him in the opposite direction.

She has to take a long, curvy route through the trees because there seems to be people everywhere in these woods. There's only fourteen people left, how is it that so many can be packed into this one park?

She hopes they get out of these woods soon, because she's not sure how much longer she can keep this up. Every time she uses her powers to search for other tributes, she gets a little more tired. Eventually she starts to slow her pace, and when she searches again, she can feel the drowsiness set in, and her eyes start to droop.

_So no more of that, then_, Dahlia thinks.

She leans heavily against Adair.

"You okay?" he asks. "Your leg bothering you?"

Dahlia glances down at her wounded leg. Surprisingly, it doesn't hurt that much. At least, she doesn't feel like she's going to die anymore. That's something, right?

"No." She shakes her head and yawns. "It's fine."

"Then what's wrong?"

"I'm just a little tired, that's all," she replies hesitantly.

"Tired?" Adair studies her carefully. "Yeah, you look pretty awful. You wanna rest?"

Dahlia shakes her head. "Don't have time."

"Sure we do."

"There are lots of people in these woods," Dahlia mutters. "We can't afford to stay still. We'll get caught."

Adair frowns at her. "You need rest."

Dahlia stifles a yawn and doesn't bother to answer. She keeps walking.

Then, a few minutes and several yawns later, Adair yanks them to a stop.

"Sit down, Dahli," he orders, pushing her to the ground. She falls on her butt and leans back against the tree right behind her. She's too tired to get up, but she tries anyway.

Adair shakes his head and sits next to her, grabbing her arm to keep her down. "Oh no you don't. You're resting."

Dahlia sighs and leans back against the tree trunk. "It's dangerous to be down here. Can't we at least climb the tree?"

"What about your leg?"

Dahlia waves him off. "I'll be fine."

Adair gives her a doubtful look, but shrugs. "We can try. You go first."  
Dahlia struggles to her feet and finds a foothold.

She carefully crawls up the tree. She tries very hard to ignore the pain in her calf. She risks subtly using her powers to help her along as she climbs, and gets more fatigued with every try. But she makes it to a reasonably high, very sturdy branch and sits on it, leaning back against the tree.

Adair is a few feet below her. She can hear him groaning and grunting as he climbs.

"Be quiet," Dahlia hisses. "You're from Eleven like me, Adair. You should know how to climb a tree."

"I do," Adair grunts. "But I didn't spend a lot of time up in the trees, back home. Mostly I worked the fields."

"Oh."

Finally Adair gets up to Dahlia. He sits on a different branch, right next to hers, breathing a little bit too heavily for Dahlia's taste, but she doesn't have much time to focus on that.

Her calf is on fire. She stares down at her leg. The bandage is gaining a growing splotch of blood.

She groans. "I need a new bandage," she murmurs. Carefully, she pulls out her backpack and searches through it. She has another strip of cloth in here somewhere...

Finally, she finds it. She gently unwinds the current bandage and gasps at the sight of her leg. It's a bloody mess, but it'll be fine, she tries to convince herself. _It'll be fine, it'll be fine, it'll be fine._

She hears Adair cluck his tongue nervously. "That looks pretty bad," he mutters.

"It's...fine." Dahlia digs in her pack and pulls out the water canteen. She stares at it uncertainly. _We're close to a water source_, she thinks. _We can just get more water if we need to._

Still...she should probably be careful about how much of this she uses.

As she cleans out the wound, she again finds herself wishing that she had nectar or ambrosia. It's so much easier with that stuff. She wraps her wound with the clean bandage, wondering what she's going to do when she has to change it again. She doesn't have any cloth left.

She searches through her bag again until she pulls out the wooden box. She frowns at it.

"What's that?" Adair asks.

"I don't know," Dahlia mutters. "I still can't figure out what to do with it."

Adair holds out his hand and curls in his fingers twice. Dahlia hands her box over.

Adair studies it, frowning. He shakes it next to his ear with no result. He tries pulling it apart. He tries tapping it on the tree. He tries every way he can think of to open it, all to no avail. Then he hands the box back to Dahlia. "Don't know." He shrugs. "I guess it's useless."

"Yeah..." Dahlia studies the box. She feels like there must be some hidden secret to it. "I guess."

She continues to stare at the box for a while longer, and then she shakes her head and shoves it back in her bag.

She stifles another yawn.

"Get some rest," Adair whispers. "I'll make sure you don't fall off."

Dahlia shakes her head. She pulls out her piece of rope and ties it around the branch and her waist. "That won't be necessary," she mutters, quietly zipping up her backpack.

Then she leans back against the tree and sighs. She's a little afraid to sleep, but lets her eyes slip closed anyway, and her dreams are, surprisingly, not that bad.

Too bad she can't enjoy them for long.


End file.
